When an Unstoppable Force Meets an Immovable Optimist
by ToriTC198
Summary: "I have to find them." Charles replied quietly, looking at Erik – pleading with him to understand. As Erik gazed into the man's tired, pain-stricken eyes, he wondered - not for the first time - how this man could be so damn good. Brave and strong and constantly putting everyone else in the world above himself. - What if Erik and Charles had been able to find a middle ground?
1. Diving in

AN: Well, I was re-watching X-Men First Class to prepare myself for the new movie coming out and I ended up getting reminded of all the ship feels I have for Erik and Charles. So... Yeah. I started writing this. I am going to be essentially rewriting the movie, at least from the point that Charles and Erik meet. This will be a fix-it-fic (though it will still have plenty of angst) so the ending will be happy. I am also going to pull some from the comic canon that isn't mentioned in the movies. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Charles felt the wind whip around him as the Coast Guard ship steadily moved along through the water. Something inside him reveled in this new excitement. This was a thrill of an entirely different kind than he was used to. Instead of throwing back shots and hitting on people in bars, he was on his way to help stop a potential threat to the government. A threat who seemed to have mutants on his side.

Really, Charles couldn't decide if he was more excited about the adventure itself, or about the possibility of learning more about the two new mutants he had seen in Moira's mind. He had spent far more time than he wanted to admit trying to think of all the different ways genes could mutate to create such intriguing traits. He wondered if the woman who could turn her skin to crystal had a mutation that was similar to Raven's. He also tried to decide if the teleporter carried a physical mutation that allowed him to relocate his atoms, or if instead it was a mental mutation that allowed the instant transportation.

Raven would have laughed at him and called him an idiot if she knew about all the thoughts going through his head. Thankfully, she was not present on the ship, and even if she were Charles was confident that he was hiding his fascination well. Since Raven was not the telepath in the family, his genetic ponderings would stay happily unnoticed.

Another burst of salt water sprayed up into his face and Charles once again used his sleeve to wipe the mist away. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the movement of men lowering small boats into the water off the side of the larger ship. His heart beat just a little faster as he squinted out into the darkness. They were getting close.

Within a minute, Charles could see the glow of another ship. As the lights grew, so did his anticipation of what was to come. Vaguely he pondered what exactly he may have gotten himself into here; he was far from the hero type. What business did he have trying to aid in capturing a terror threat?

As the lights of the Coast Guard vessel snapped on, and the smaller dinghies sped out in front, Charles resolved that, regardless of what he was getting into, he was stuck with the choice now. Besides, it would probably be fun.

Moira strode up beside him, looking towards the bright yacht floating innocently in the waves. "Is he there?" She asked Charles, though it was more like yelling. With the wind still buffeting them as the ship plowed closer to their target, it was hard to hear anything that wasn't a yell.

A voice rang out on the loudspeaker, making Charles' ears ache, "This is the U.S. Coast Guard. Do not attempt to move your vessel. Stay where you are."

Charles tuned out the physical voice and reached with his mind out across the water. "Shaw is on board." He confirmed out loud. Satisfied with that knowledge – but still keeping part of his mind focused on Shaw – he started searching the rest the ship for more information. He caught the presence of two other people before he felt a wall slam down around the yacht's occupants.

"I've lost Shaw," He stated instantly to the agents beside him. He repeated the words moments later as he determined for certain that he could not penetrate the shield. As he pushed harder with his power, he continued relaying his findings out loud to whoever happened to be standing near him. "There's something blocking me. This has never happened to me before." Sudden clarity hit him, filling him both with wonder and trepidation, "I think there's someone like me on that ship."

"Like you?" Moira inquired from beside him.

Charles spared her a quick glance. Raven would have scolded him for speaking only in partial thoughts, leaving the people around him behind in the wake of his churning mind. "I'm Sorry," he quickly clarified, "A telepath."

His hand lowered from its customary placement at his temple as he marveled in the knowledge. He also noted a distinct feeling he had never experienced before. He was quick to throw up mental blocks of his own as for the first time in his life he realized exactly what it felt like to have a telepath trying to get into your head. It was like a strange tickle at the base of his skull, telling him that someone was trying to pull some deep secret from him.

"This is incredible," he mused. "I can actually feel her inside my mind." Realizing that his wondering statements were really rather pointless to the agents, and that they likely needed him to actually communicate properly with them; Charles turned and said, "I'm very sorry but I don't think I'm going to be much help to you tonight. You're on your own."

Charles looked out towards the yacht again and wondered which of the mutants was a telepath. It was astounding to know that there were people on that boat that he couldn't feel. Being cut off from someone's mind was a unique moment for him. It wasn't like he spent his days diving into people's brains, but he always knew in the back of his head that it was at least possible if he wanted. Now, to be faced with a situation where it was quite literally not possible for him to access someone, was flooring.

More so, however, was the distinctly tornado shaped funnels spiraling towards the Coast Guard dinghies. That sight brought Charles out of his pondering thoughts quickly and the words, "Oh my God," escaped his lips before he even had time to process them.

In that moment, seeing good men go flying into the water as a violently engineered storm flipped their vessels mercilessly into the cold waves, Charles finally lost any element of fascination that remained. It felt remarkably like sudden sobriety. It became obvious in an instant that this entire situation truly was dangerous and potentially deadly. It wasn't a story he would joke about with his next random bar hook-up, it wasn't a case study of new mutations for his thesis, it was real life and it was getting ugly quickly.

The agent who had offered them his facility – an agent Charles realized he had never bothered to learn the name of – reacted quickly. He ushered Moira and Charles inside the Coast Guard ship and the telepath was only too eager to oblige. The open deck of a ship seemed like a terrible place to be in the face of loose tornadoes.

He hadn't even realized his mind was still searching blindly across the water until the second that his power touched someone else. The blank wall that the yacht provided was accented by a new unfamiliar mind that was slightly closer to where Charles was. "Stop stop stop stop stop," He immediately told the retreating agents. He was so heavily focused on the new person that Charles was reasonably sure he may have just said the word, "stop," a frankly unnecessary number of times.

The sharp and unexpected spike of anger drove a shocked cry from Charles' lips before he could stop himself. He reeled backwards, hitting his back against the wall of the stairwell as his hand rose instinctually to his temple. The anger still burned bright in his mind, but the surprise wore off and the telepath swiftly regained composure.

Dimly he recalled Moira asking if he was okay so he informed her, "There's someone else out there," as he moved past her and back out to the deck of the ship. Something about the new presence made him feel ashamed for retreating the second things had gotten dangerous. He followed the loud scream of an anguished mind until he located the source. "There."

The way he pointed seemed wholly unneeded though as an anchor, and all of its metal chain-links, snaked into the air. A clearer beacon was hardly possible. When the heavy anchor dove down and came crashing to the yacht it became evident that the new player was most definitely not working with Shaw. The chain ripped through the entire top floor of the vessel with ease, crushing plastic, metal, and glass on its way. As Charles watched the easy destruction – saw that the force had even torn the anchor entirely away from the rest of the chain – he found himself very glad that someone capable of something like that was not against him. The enemy of my enemy and all that.

There was another flare of anger and Charles tore his eyes away from the loosely hanging chain embedded in the yacht. For the first time, he actually looked at the man that his power had sought out and noted with some concern that the mutant was not – as he has assumed – safely in a boat. He was treading water, dwarfed by the ship beside him and still surging with fury.

With growing alarm, Charles realized that the man was not treading water at all. He seemed to be being dragged along by something – coming closer to the Coast Guard ship. Without hesitation, the telepath looked deeper into the man's mind, needing to know exactly what was happening. The sheer force of rage beating against Charles' mind made it hard to focus but when he finally fought past the surface emotions he could feel the fleeing submarine beneath the water.

Through Erik's mind – because that was the name Charles had found inside the man's head – he could acutely sense the metal sliding through the water and the strain of trying to hold it back from its retreat.

Cold fear trailed down Charles' spine as he searched the metal-bender's mind for any sign that he intended to release his grasp on the sub. He found none.

"Let go!" He screamed at Erik even though he knew it was useless. Even if the man could hear him over the water splashing around his ears, Erik certainly couldn't hear past the roar of anger that filled his entire mind. "You've got to let it go!"

Charles briefly focused on the people standing behind him on the ship's deck, "There's someone in the water, you've got to help him," he demanded before screaming again for Erik to let go.

He watched with despair as the submarine dove deeper, dragging the man down beneath the water entirely as it went. Determination welled up inside Charles as he decided that he was not going to let Erik die. If words alone could not get to him, then perhaps Charles would have to use more than his mental powers to solve this problem.

With that resolution on the edge of his mind, Charles tore off his jacket as he raced along the deck. Without a second thought, he dove off the side of the giant vessel and crashed into the water below. Erik's mind was a beacon under the water, shouting out in anger and frustration that thudded against Charles' skull.

As his hand wrapped around the shoulder of the drowning man, Charles felt a tiny flicker of surprise and confusion that was quickly flushed out by the consuming hatred. Erik hardly spared him a seconds notice before he returned to the task at hand. Charles pulled himself closer until his arms circled Erik's torso and he fought to drag the man to the surface.

_You can't. You'll drown._ He said into Erik's head in as calm a tone as he could muster. He continued trying to physically force the metal-bender above water but it did no good.

_You have to let go._

Charles felt guilty doing it, but he stretched farther into Erik's mind searching for some way to get through to him. Flashes of memories piled up in his head, flickering rapidly through and tearing something within Charles' heart. Pain, loss, torment, and a desperate desire for vengeance. If they were above water, he was certain the foreign feelings and memories would have dragged tears from his eyes with ease. Right now though, he did not have time to dwell on anything except getting Erik to let go.

_I know what this means to you, _Charles pressed into Erik's mind, trying to convey the truth of his words,_ but you're going to die._

The mutant's head was so stubbornly set on thinking of nothing but rage that Charles feared his thoughts weren't even getting through. He thought of all the times when Raven had lost control of her power in a flurry of emotions and with one last push of power into the man's head Charles begged, _Please, Erik, calm your mind._

The fight started to go out of Erik at the mention of his name. The drag of the submarine finally stopped and the body in Charles' arms went slack as Erik allowed himself to be dragged to the surface.

* * *

AN: Next chapter will be Erik's point of view now that Charles has saved him. Look forward to it :)


	2. Not Alone

Strong arms curled around his torso and pulled him up through the water. Erik didn't fight the movement, but he didn't assist it either. Instead he struggled to get his head wrapped around whatever had just happened. A strange voice speaking to him, calling his name, but not out loud. A new presence holding onto him that was somehow giving off the impression that, if Erik drowned, the stranger would go down with him. Everything seemed muddled and foggy as confusion squashed down his rage.

Erik's head broke the surface of the water and the burst of fresh air sent a shock of energy through his system as he dragged a breath of oxygen in. He was suddenly acutely aware of the chest plastered against his back and the way the arms were still clutched protectively around him. Erik reacted without thought, simultaneously turning to face the man while also shoving away from him violently with a command of, "Get off me. Get off!"

He pulled in deep gasps of air – spitting out the water that sloshed around his face – and heard the man in front of him calling out, "we're here," to someone. Presumably a friend standing on the Coast Guard ship that loomed nearby. The man's voice sounded the same out loud as it had in his mind, though a bit more tired and hoarse. It was tinged with a British accent and an underlying strength that didn't quite seem to match the diminutive man Erik was looking at.

"Who are you?" Erik demanded to know. Once the words were out it occurred to him that there were perhaps more important questions he should have asked first. Questions pertaining to voices echoing inside a person's skull yet never actually passing through ears.

"My name is Charles Xavier," the man bobbing next to him in the water said before Erik had the chance to revise his question.

Charles. It seemed like such an innocuous name for someone who had clearly been rooting through Erik's brain. Some of the anger still lingering at the edges of his mind started threatening to return full force. This complete stranger had accessed his memories and his deepest emotions.

"You were in my head," Erik accused. "How did you do that?"

"You have your tricks, I have mine." Charles answered. He looked exhausted but still alert and a little wary of the angry metal bender. His eyes met Erik's and they seemed to convey the message that everything was going to be okay. Those eyes made Erik feel like he was having his thoughts read all over again. As if in answer to the slowly building fury, Charles opened his mouth again and said, "I'm like you. Just _calm_ your mind."

The words, "like you," were what finally subdued the last of Erik's rage. Those two words stunned him and all at once he didn't care in the slightest that Charles had delved into his thoughts. The mere fact that someone could do such a thing meant so much more than the invasion of privacy ever could.

Erik looked away from Charles' searching eyes, trying to incorporate this new epiphany into his life. Nearby, he noticed the progress of a small dinghy making its way towards the pair floating in the water. Being rescued from the warm Florida water sounded good, but it paled in comparison to the revelation Charles had given him. "I thought I was alone," Erik managed to spit out around the strange happiness that had clogged his throat.

"You're not alone." Charles replied immediately, finally letting the wariness slip away from him. His words were less rushed and the undercurrent of desperation had left his voice now that Erik was under control of his anger. Their eyes met again and the younger man seemed to understand completely how much those words meant to him. Quieter, but somehow with more meaning behind them, Charles repeated the words, "Erik, you're not alone."

If Erik's mind hadn't been busy reeling with something akin to joy, he might have made more of an effort to control his emotions. As it was, he was almost positive that his face looked far more vulnerable and open than he ever meant it to. For some reason, in the light of Charles' brilliant smile, being open didn't seem quite as bad as usual.

Part of him wondered if Charles was doing something to his thoughts, forcing him to open up. However, the kind of man who leaps off the deck of a boat to save a complete stranger didn't seem to be the sort who would manipulate someone like that. Erik was intensely aware all of a sudden that he was probably in the presence of a much better man than him.

This was a man who made the world a better place just by existing.

A hand reached out to Erik from the side and he tore his eyes away from Charles' long enough to realize that the hand was offering to help him into the small boat now puttering along next to him. Erik ignored the offer, instead hauling himself up the side of the craft unaided. He slumped wearily against the side of the dinghy as he watched Charles being lifted out of the water – the smaller man having no issue accepting assistance. Instead, he was all smiles and repeated variations of, "thank you," murmured to every person in the boat. Erik just glared around at the people surrounding him and took pleasure in the fact that they all shrunk away from the steel in his gaze.

All except Charles.

No, he only smiled wider at Erik before settling in for the short trip back to the Coast Guard vessel. They were pulled aboard with little fanfare save for the slight scowl from someone that was introduced as Agent MacTaggert. ("Jumping off the ship, Charles? Really?")

Charles only shrugged and wandered off somewhere away from Erik who stood alone now on the deck of an unfamiliar ship. A slight breeze drifted past, drawing his attention to the fact that he was standing in sodden clothes now and getting quite cold. The thought had hardly registered when Charles returned bearing a blanket and a cup of tea.

"Here you go, my friend, you must be freezing" he said as he draped the blanket around Erik's shoulders and pressed the warm cup into his cold hands. "I've asked the crew to leave you in peace for a while; I know you have had a bit of a shock tonight."

Erik had a sneaking suspicion that when Charles said, "Told," he didn't mean verbally.

He also suspected that the warning given to the ship crew was more for their safety than for his own mental health. Erik knew he was still hiked up on adrenaline and getting too many prying looks from strangers was liable to set him off. More than likely, Charles knew and understood that truth as well.

In fact, looking at the small man standing in front of him, Erik decided that Charles probably understood a great deal about him. Those striking blue eyes that penetrated into his head looked like they had seen and experienced far more than the smiles and relaxed manner would suggest. This man was as good at hiding from the world as Erik was, just in an entirely different way.

_You still with me, Erik?_

Erik jumped at the intrusion into his head, sloshing a little of the tea over his hands.

"Sorry, my friend" Charles said, out loud this time. "It's just that you looked a bit lost in your thoughts."

"So you thought you would invade them?" Erik bit back with no real venom. As an afterthought he muttered, "I am not your friend."

Charles blinked at him in surprise at the retort. He shook it off quickly though as he turned to face the water passing by the ship. The younger man leaned his elbows on the railing, gazing down into the dark sea. After a few minutes of silence – in which Erik just sipped at his tea and stared hard at the man before him – Charles cleared his throat.

"I am sorry. For earlier. You know…" Here Charles waved a hand in the general direction of his head. "I would never normally dive that far into a person's head without their express permission. I saw no other choice at the time though. I needed to get you to air before you drowned and for that I had to get past the anger that was surrounding your mind."

Erik continued his silence.

"Your mutation is amazing you know," Charles broke the quiet again. "Magnetic fields, manipulating metal… Those are powerful skills. You could do great things."

Despite his best efforts, Erik found his curiosity piqued, "Mutation? Is that what this is?"

"Yes," came the cheerful reply, accompanied by that infuriatingly brilliant smile. "You, Erik Lehnsherr, are a mutant. Just like me."

"What exactly is your mutation?"

"Oh, sorry. Telepath. I can read minds, control them, speak with them… I'm sure there are more things I can do as well but I have yet to truly experiment with the possibilities. I've not had the chance."

He said it all so casually. As if being able to look into a person's innermost thoughts and feelings was completely commonplace. Perhaps for him it was. The way Charles was acting implied that Erik was not the first mutant he had ever met. There had to be others as well, more than just him and Charles. It was an entire new world of possibility.

_You are not alone_. Erik heard the thought echo in his mind but he couldn't for the life of him decide if he had remembered the words of his own accord or if the whispered thought had come from Charles. Either way, now that it had been brought back to mind, the words played on in a loop through his head. Not alone. Not alone. Not alone.

Erik looked one last time at Charles, watching the way that his damp hair still clung to his forehead and his clothes still dripped a steady beat onto the deck, then he turned and strode off in search of somewhere to be alone. Charles didn't follow, but Erik wondered if the telepath was still keeping an eye on him from inside his head. If Erik had some trouble getting the telepath's bright blue eyes out of his head, he would never admit to it.

Not alone. Not alone. Not alone.

* * *

The Coast Guard ship pulled into port within the hour. Erik's first thought was to just leave. He had no reason to stick around now that he was back on solid ground and he needed to go after Schmidt. Charles found him before he actually set foot on the dock though, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and steering him towards a waiting black car.

Erik wondered briefly if this was what being kidnapped felt like. He always imagined it would involve more threats and less sunny smiles.

"So, Erik, what would you say to meeting another mutant?"

He didn't answer, but he also didn't resist the eager man ushering him into the back of a strange vehicle. Charles clambered in after him and they sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence as the car started and took off. The driver paid them little attention so Erik did not spare any time paying attention to him.

"Charles," Erik said, tasting the name on his tongue for the first time, "What were you, and the coast guard, doing going after Schmidt?"

"Oh, the Coast Guard was uninvolved. We merely borrowed their transport. I was helping the CIA locate a man named Sebastian Shaw. Not to bring up a sore subject again, but when I was in your mind I saw the man you call Schmidt. He is the same man I am after. Perhaps we could help each other in our mutual desire to track him down." The tone Charles used was hopeful but the look on his face implied that he really was not expecting Erik to agree.

He was right about that. Erik wanted to kill Schmidt or Shaw, not find him and bring him in to the government. The CIA would only get in his way. Still, Erik nodded at Charles and tried to project thoughts of agreement. Just because Erik didn't plan to work with Charles didn't mean he had to turn away the chance to meet more mutants. He would play along until he had a chance to slip away unnoticed.

* * *

AN: I had intended for this chapter to be longer but I got distracted by an X-Men marathon. Thus, next chapter will still be Erik's point of view.


	3. Making a Choice

It took them another half an hour of driving through the city until they reached a fairly nondescript building. "You know, in all the excitement of the night I had nearly forgotten we had to pick up my sister." Charles mused with a slightly guilty grin. To the driver he added, "Good thing we had you here to keep me from making an ass out of myself."

With that, he clambered out of the car, stretching muscles that had already grown stiff from inactivity and from the damp still clinging to his clothes. Erik followed suit, preferring to follow the telepath instead of waiting awkwardly in a car with a stranger.

Not that Charles wasn't basically a stranger too. It was different though, He and Charles shared something that formed an instant connection. In a way, Charles already knew him better than most people had ever known him. In general, no one knew Erik's power unless they were moments away from dying at his hand.

So, Charles was a stranger, but somehow he was also a brother.

With confidence – and a glance back at Erik – Charles strode through the doors of the building and led Erik to a small room off the main hallway. The door was ajar and Charles gently pushed it open the rest the way to reveal a young blonde woman sitting on a couch against the wall. Her feet were kicked up onto the coffee table and a look of intense boredom was spread across her face.

If Erik were to pick one thing about this girl that stood out it was the fact that her hand was a startling shade of blue. At least it was for a moment. As soon as she registered the sound of the door opening she looked up from her hand and immediately her skin shifted in waves until she appeared to have entirely pale white skin. Charles seemed unphased by the change as he strode up to hug the girl and then proceeded to draw her closer to where Erik stood in shock.

"Erik, I'd like you to meet my sister Raven. Raven, this is Erik, he's a mutant like us." He said as he gestured between the two of them. "She was kind enough to remain here with the CIA while I went off to save the government. If you don't mind, I would prefer not sharing with her our lack of success. Must maintain the appearance of being an undefeatable big brother."

The last words were said in a loud whisper that Charles directed at Erik, but clearly intended for Raven to hear as well. She snorted out a brief laugh before muttering back, "Yeah, maybe if I hadn't seen you defeated by booze and a pretty face so often I would have more confidence in you."

Charles grinned as he wrapped an arm around Raven's shoulder. "I have no idea what you're talking about, my dear. I have always been the picture of respectable behavior."

The display of clear sibling love tugged at something deep in Erik's chest and he forced himself to turn away from the pair. Watching their easy interaction felt far too much like intruding on a private moment. Underneath their jovial tones and easy smiles it was obvious that both had spent time worrying about the other as this night had played out.

Raven seemed to interpret his attempt to give them a moment alone as something else entirely because she quickly said, "I'm sorry if I freaked you out or anything. It's just that I got bored and started playing around with my mutation."

"No. Don't apologize," Erik replied without hesitation. "You are amazing and your power should be celebrated, not hidden away." Raven blinked at him in wide-eyed surprise before letting a smile break out across her face. Erik grinned back at her and then looked over to Charles as well, "In fact, all three of us should be able to use our power whenever we want and without fear. Maybe if we could do that, I wouldn't have gone so long before I realized I wasn't the only one."

"And I'm sure there are more besides us and Shaw's group," Charles added on. "There may be many others out there too and I am hoping we can find them. Perhaps gather some friends to our cause."

With that said, Charles started walking back towards the front of the building and the waiting car. He did it with the air of someone who knew with complete certainty that the other two would follow him. The assumption annoyed Erik a little, but no more than the fact that he actually did exactly what Charles expected. After all, when a man is willing to follow you to the depths of the ocean, it seems silly not to follow him in return. At least for as long as it was beneficial to the cause of stopping Shaw.

Three hours later, the sun had risen and a large concrete research facility sat in front of them. It had been a long and uncomfortable car ride which, on multiple occasions, had made Erik regret staying with Charles. The three mutants had been crammed into the back seat together and almost as soon as the vehicle pulled out into traffic the Xavier siblings had nodded off. Charles had his head pressed against the window of the car while Raven leaned hers against her brother's shoulder. They seemed a picture perfect family and a fierce envy formed a lump in Erik's throat.

What would it be like to have the life of privilege and love these two seemed to have held?

The two humans in the front of the car spoke quietly to each other, but mostly ignored Erik. He wasn't sure if it was because they were attempting not to disturb the sleeping passengers, or if it had more to do with the fact that Charles seemed to be the only one who had actually wanted Erik along. He couldn't imagine the CIA was entirely enthused about having an unknown mutant added to the mix without warning.

So, Erik just stared dully out the window as the cities rolled by and turned eventually to more rural areas. He let his mind drift from one thought to the next, but he kept finding it coming unerringly back to the two people next to him. _You're not alone._

Those words were proved real yet again when the small troop finally made its way into the main entrance of the CIA facility. Hanging from the ceiling was a model of a supersonic jet, standing beside it was its proud designer. A young man named Hank.

"How wonderful," Charles said as he approached Hank, "another mutant, already here. Why didn't you say?" This last part was directed back towards the CIA agents.

Their silence was answer enough and Erik was torn between laughing at the situation and feeling bad for the mutant that had just been accidentally outed.

Soon though, they were all laughing as Hank showed off his abilities for what was likely the first time in his life. Erik's laugh was quieter than the rest, and his position leaning against the railing probably made it hard for anyone to tell he had joined in the moment, but that made it no less genuine. If only his first public reveal of power had gone as well as that.

Less than a day ago, he thought he was the only one. Now, here were three others and they were all talking about ways to find even more.

Then, within the day, two of them started talking about, "Curing," themselves. The two young ones, tucked away in a darkened alcove away from the world, discussed ways to remove their mutations. It infuriated something that Erik could not quite name. In the short time since realizing that there were others, he had grown fiercely protective of the concept of mutants. To speak so freely of just throwing away those gifts was insane.

Erik's power had brought misery on him time and time again, but he would not give it up for the world. His power was a part of him and he would die before relinquishing it. That these two would even consider it…

He wondered what Charles would think of removing his powers. Or what he would say to Raven if he knew she was considering removing hers.

Erik made his presence known, informing Raven that she shouldn't change a thing about herself, and then he continued onto his destination. The office of Agent Moira MacTaggert. It was a simple enough matter to get in – after all locks are made of metal – and he found the file he was looking for fairly easily. It contained all the information the CIA had gathered on Shaw; Erik figured that having that knowledge would make up for the time he had spent in getting here. Time he should have been off pursuing Shaw.

He placed the folder in a briefcase, snapped it shut, and then, with a heavier heart than he would care to admit, he walked purposefully out of the building.

He made it less than 100 feet from the entrance before a now-familiar voice halted him.

"From what I know about you, I'm surprised you've managed to stay this long."

Charles.

Of course.

Erik turned to face the younger man, fully intending to tell him to, "fuck off," but the sight of him standing there froze the words on his tongue. Charles looked genuinely sad to see him leave. His hands were shoved into his pockets in what Erik quickly recognized as feigned nonchalance. His casual air held an underlying sense of pleading to it that somehow made Erik feel like he was kicking a puppy.

Though with the power Erik knew was surging inside Charles, he doubted the man could ever be compared to something as fragile and innocent as a puppy.

"What do you know about me?" Erik finally responded; making a conscious effort to put as much scorn into his voice as possible.

"Everything."

Yeah, he really should have expected that answer. He was dealing with a telepath after all. One who Erik knew full well had pushed into his memories to break his hold on the submarine. Still, the reminder that this man could tear every fact about him out of his brain didn't put Erik at ease.

"Then you'll know to stay out of my head." He said with a glare before turning to walk away again.

Of course, Charles couldn't let him go that easily. Instead, the telepath chased after him, speaking as he went, "I'm sorry Erik, but I've seen what Shaw did to you."

He had suspected of course that Charles had seen that particular part of his past. Why else would he have told Erik he knew what the submarine meant to him? Hearing the words directly from Charles' mouth still shocked him and Erik found his feet stopping again; though he refused to turn to face the telepath.

"I've felt you agony." Charles continued. The way he emphasized the word, "felt," made it apparent that he truly had physically suffered Erik's pain as he viewed those old memories. A sudden urge to vomit rose inside Erik as he tried to imagine what it had been like for Charles to be assaulted by someone else's nightmares. He wondered how many times Charles had, "felt," pain that didn't belong to him. Pain he didn't deserve.

That no one deserved.

Then Charles added, "I can help you."

He stood there, in his silly looking sweater, with his easy smiles and his unconditional acceptance, offering Erik something he had never dreamed of having. Somewhere to belong.

After far too many beats of silence, Erik scoffed at the idea and out of instinct he replied, "I don't need your help." He knew it was a lie; just as he knew Charles could tell it was a lie. Unfortunately, Charles called him out on it.

"Don't kid yourself. You needed my help last night. It's not just me you're walking away from. Here, you have the chance to be a part of something much bigger than yourself." Charles started walking closer as he spoke, making Erik wonder when he had faced the telepath again. He didn't remember doing it.

Now, with Charles staring straight into his eyes, Erik was beginning to doubt that he could actually turn away to leave again. This man was dangerous. Even with all the reason in the world to leave, Erik could still feel himself getting drawn like a magnet to the whirlwind that Charles Xavier seemed to pull people in with. It was something Erik wasn't sure he would be able to escape.

He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to.

"I won't stop you leaving," Charles assured him. "I could, but I won't." With that, he pulled away; walking alone back into the CIA facility. As he left he shouted back over his shoulder, "Shaw's got friends. You could do with some."

Erik stared after him for a few moments longer, glad that Charles had been the one to break eye contact because Erik truly didn't think he could have. The only thing that went through his mind was, "Erik, you're not alone." It played on repeat in a reassuring British accent.

Those words struck a chord, along with the fact that for the first time in his life, someone had the ability to force him into something, and they chose not to. Charles Xavier had all the strength he needed to keep Erik where he wanted him, but instead of using force he showed compassion. In the end it was the decision to be kind that swayed Erik. He grumbled to himself, cursed himself, and cursed Charles, but still his feet were walking back through those stupid glass doors into that unknown web of complications he really didn't need or want.

He was going to regret this. He just knew it.

In some way, before this was all over, Charles Xavier was going to make Erik regret the choice to stand with a team when standing alone had always worked before.

* * *

The next morning dawned far too early and Erik definitely regretted everything. He regretted the horribly uncomfortable bed in the quarters the CIA granted him. He regretted the disgusting brown water that the agents claimed was coffee. He regretted being up half the night trying – and failing – to convince himself to leave. Most of all he regretted the way he could already feel himself being drawn inexorably towards Charles.

It was because of this last thing that he found himself wandering through the halls of the building trying to find the telepath. It was probably nothing more than the fact that they were both mutants, but he still could not deny the pull Charles held on him. It was hard not to form a connection with the first person to tell you that you weren't alone.

Erik recognized the voice of one of the senior CIA agents as it drifted through an open door. "It's designed to amplify brainwaves," the voice said. The topic alone was enough to convince him that he would find Charles there. "So it could enhance your telepathic powers, help us find other mutants for our division." Erik stepped into the doorway and confirmed with a glance that Charles sat across from the agent, both looking out the window at a large contraption on the lawn.

"What if they don't want to be found by you?" He cut in without so much as a hello.

"Erik," Charles exclaimed with another of those smiles, "You decided to stay."

The metal bender was surprised, but made sure not to show it. Truly, he had expected Charles to already know he was still here. Erik had assumed the telepath would have used his power to get back into his head, confirm where he was. The fact that Charles had, once again, respected his privacy and free will brought a surge of trust to Erik that was wholly unfamiliar in his life. In his experience, people with power over others used that power whenever possible to achieve their own ends.

Erik didn't show his surprise, but he also didn't fight the small smile that spread across his face.

He turned away from Charles and spoke again to the agent, "If a new species if being discovered, it should be by its own kind." He tried not to think about the stark difference in how his power had been regarded by humans as opposed to the warm welcome he got from Charles. Of the two reactions, he much preferred the one from a fellow mutant and that was certainly the same treatment he would want other mutants to receive. "Charles and I find the mutants. No suits." He added, allowing no room in his tone for negotiation.

Of course, there was an attempt at arguing anyway. "First of all," the man said with a patronizing voice, "that's my machine out there. Second of all, and much more importantly, this is Charles' decision. Charles is fine with the CIA being involved. Isn't that right?"

Charles hadn't looked away from Erik once since the moment he walked in and even now his blue eyes were looking straight at him. The instant the question had been asked, the telepath had turned his head slightly towards the agent but his eyes remained locked on Erik's. He must have found what he was looking for in the older man's eyes because, after a few moments of wordless communication, he shifted his gaze to meet the agent's at last and said, "No." Then his eyes drifted back to the metal bender, "I'm sorry, but I'm with Erik. We'll find them alone."

Erik couldn't help the satisfied look he shot towards the agent who had seemed so damn smug about shooting down his plan.

The agent responded with, "What if I say no?" but he didn't bother to look at Erik at all. Instead he gave total attention to Charles as if no one else's opinion mattered.

To be fair, Erik was really only paying attention to Charles too.

The telepath turned slowly with raised eyebrows and replied, "Then good luck using your installation without me."

The proclamation was met with a tense silence as the agent stared back and forth between the two mutants. Finally he threw his hands into the air, "Fine. I can tell when I've lost. You two find the mutants and bring them back to me. I want to be kept up to date at all times. Tell me where you're going, when you expect to be back, and how many mutants you're bringing with you. I won't interfere with you but I expect to be informed of what is happening within my department."

"There now, everyone is happy." Charles said as he stood up. He walked towards the door, wrapped an arm around Erik's shoulder, and started directing him down the hallway away from the disgruntled agent. "Now then, I suggest we grab my sister and her lovely new science friend so we can explore our new device."

"I did miss the first part of the conversation," Erik reminded Charles, "I'm not entirely certain what you're talking about."

"Yes, of course. That large white sphere that you may have noticed outside happens to be a machine. Apparently a very powerful machine which will enhance my abilities. I should be able to widen my range considerably, possibly to the entire planet, and single out people like us."

"The entire – Is that something you can actually handle?"

"I have no idea." Charles answered with far too much cheerfulness, "I suppose we'll find out together, my friend."

* * *

Erik was still trying to figure out if this was really a good idea as they traipsed up the stairs and into the center of the device Hank had called, "Cerebro." Looking around at all the wires and clunky machinery Erik decided it was a stupid name. A stupid machine really. He was sure they could find mutants without the added advantage of Cerebro.

However, it took less than a day of knowing Charles to accept that there would be no talking the telepath out of this. One thing Erik could say for certain was that Charles was not one to back away from something just because it seemed perhaps a little too intimidating a task. Like diving three stories off a ship into the water.

Hank rattled off pointless information about how everything worked, but Erik ignored it all to just stare around at the whole thing. His skin was starting to crawl with memories of people poking and prodding at him while wires splayed out from every speck of bare skin. He suppressed the urge to shudder and he viciously shoved the feelings away with a nervous glance towards the telepath; hoping that Charles hadn't picked up any of his thoughts.

He was busy pulling the helmet down onto his head, completely ignoring the chattering of Hank, the awed marveling of Raven, and the somewhat sick feeling in Erik's stomach.

"What an adorable lab rat you make, Charles." He said, thinking a joke might perhaps ease the knot in his gut.

"Don't spoil this for me, Erik." The telepath shot back, but his eyes refused to meet Erik's and that alone made it clear that he had some idea what the older man was thinking.

If he hadn't known before, Erik confirmed it with his next words. "I've been a lab rat, I know one when I see one."

He hadn't meant to say it. The tone was still joking and to anyone else he was sure it would seem like exactly that, but it was obvious from the way that Charles' eyes flicked towards him that he understood the underlying fear. And there _was_ fear. Less than twelve hours before, Erik had made the choice to stay here – to stay with Charles – and now Charles was stepping into the unknown with no guarantee of safety. Erik wasn't used to caring if someone lived or died, but suddenly he found himself very concerned that this would end badly.

Charles, despite being the actual person in danger, seemed completely at ease. His hands were clasped behind his back and his voice was steady as he told Hank, "Don't touch my hair." The picture of calm. Erik wished he had some telepathic ability as well so he could figure out what exactly was going through his mind.

Their eyes locked one more time before Charles let his drift closed in anticipation. He took a deep breath – the first sign that he was even mildly worried – and waited as Hank finished the start-up process. The lights dimmed and the plastic helmet, which could very well have the ability to kill Charles, started turning an eerie shade of blue. Erik took an involuntary step back, relinquishing the hold on the railing that he hadn't even realized he was grasping.

The telepath released a brief shout and his hands flew forward to grab onto the very bar that Erik had just let go of. Blue eyes opened wide with shock and for a moment it seemed like there was pain there too. Charles clenched his jaw and let out a gasp of air, staring unfocused at the wall as Erik watched with apprehension. Within seconds, the slightly pained look morphed into a laugh – albeit a forced sounding one – and Erik let himself believe that this really was going to be fine. No matter how much of the world Charles had flying through his mind, he was able to handle it all.

* * *

AN: Road trip starts next chapter! Charles' POV. Also, next chapter will feature the first of many chess games.


	4. Chess and a New Recruit

Charles lifted the helmet off his head and blinked away the stars that had gathered on the edges of his vision. Three pairs of curious – and slightly worried – eyes stared back at him. Charles sought out the gaze of the oldest one, trying to reassure him with a smile that he was fine. Erik had been vastly unsuccessful at convincing the telepath that this whole scientific endeavor – with its wires and its experimental nature – didn't bring back unpleasant thoughts.

It was no real surprise to Charles. Immersed in the warm Atlantic waters less than two days ago, he had found countless terrors locked away inside the head of Erik Lehnsherr. At the time, his focus had been on finding the right words to say – the right button to push – to break through the metal bender's fierce determination and concentration; so the memories had drifted through him but not taken hold. In the peaceful moments afterwards though, left alone on the darkened deck of a Coast Guard ship, Charles had allowed his mind to truly pay attention to the new memories spinning through his mind.

Yes. He knew full well that watching an acquaintance –perhaps even a friend – willingly don an untested scientific contraption, could not have been easy for Erik. The metal bender had been forced into his time as a lab-rat, it would be hard to witness someone going voluntarily to that same unknown fate. In truth, it had not been much easier for Charles. With all the images of Erik's life still fresh in his own head, the concept of stepping into an unknown science experiment didn't exactly thrill him.

It was because of all that – because of the evident concern in Erik's eyes – that Charles ignored the agonizing pounding in his head and the weakness in his limbs when he removed Cerebro's helmet. He leaned casually against the railing, trying to project the image of relaxed happiness, when in fact the thin metal railing was supporting the weight his legs refused to hold.

Raven would usually have noticed how pale he looked, but she was far too concerned with admiring Hank so it had hardly registered in her mind. It may also have had something to do with the slight mental suggestion he made encouraging her to ignore the pallor of his skin. Erik and Hank had certainly not known him long enough to be able to tell exactly what level of pale was normal for him. If he could just act fine, Charles was certain no one would suspect a thing.

"That was fantastic!" He said with enthusiasm to the expectant crowd. "I could feel them everywhere. Tens of thousands of people – mutants – just like us. I could hear them all!" The accompanying smile was far from his brightest, but it was also 100 percent genuine and that would have to be enough. Regardless of the apparent physical toll, the machine Hank had created was clearly amazing. It was going to change all of their lives, and the lives of countless more of their kind.

A visible sigh of relief passed through the three huddled mutants as Charles' excited words registered.

Hank turned immediately to the still blinking instrument panels that he had forgotten about in the adrenaline of the moment. He gleefully tore away the top sheet of coordinates and scanned over it with hungry eyes. Each set of numbers was another mutant. It was a heady feeling. "I'll get the data worked out to a specific town or city," He said. "I can get you two your first destination within the day."

Charles nodded gratefully and took a deep breath in – trying to let the oxygen restore energy to his limbs – before pushing away from the welcoming support of the rail. Thankfully, his legs held and he walked with a falsely confident air out of the large metal sphere.

He made it inside the building on his own strength, and then progressed through the hallway with a hand pressed firmly against the cool concrete wall. He recalled with annoyance that his room was on the opposite side of the facility and the task of getting all that distance seemed a bit too much for him.

They'd been given a tour the day before, which Charles tried to remember now as he sought out a nearby place to rest. There was a library nearby. He was certain of it. A quiet location that few people probably wandered into. Was it the fourth door on the right or the sixth on the left? They had been shown so many rooms in their hurried exploration that it all blurred together in his mind. Then again that could simply be the fact that his mind was blurry already with the strain he had forced on it. Charles closed his eyes – cutting off the unwelcome glare of fluorescent lighting drilling into his retinas – and pulled up a mental map of the building. It was easier to remember it that way; without his vision swimming in a haze of exhaustion.

There it was. On the left. He was certain.

Charles dragged his eyes back open and stumbled the last few hundred feet to the entrance he knew to be the library. He shoved open the heavy metal door and made his way clumsily into the room. Books loomed all around him, filling the walls and surfaces and even the floor. Seats were scattered generously throughout and Charles aimed his tired body towards the most comfortable one he could see. A plush armchair at one side of a chess board.

He collapsed into the chair with a groan – massaging his temple as he finally allowed the exhaustion and searing headache to take over. He leaned forward, head in his hands, eyes clenched shut, and fought the pain as he resolved once and for all not to ever stay in Cerebro that long again. At least not until he had built his tolerance up to longer sessions.

He should have started slower and he knew it. Even as the consciousness of the world had flooded past him – stunning him with its beauty – he had known that he should take things slowly. Instead, he let the majesty of the moment overwhelm his logic – and his sense of self-preservation – as he pushed harder and pushed his power far beyond its usual limitations.

Raven would call him an idiot. Hell, even Erik would call him an idiot and the two hardly knew each other. It was hard to imagine him not thinking Charles was stupid for pushing too hard; especially given that their meeting had occurred when Charles had forced Erik to accept his own limitations. Now here was Charles doing exactly what he had tried to get Erik not to do.

It was an hour later that Erik found him, still holed up in the library without the energy to relocate to his quarters. By then, Charles had leaned farther forward and started fiddling with the chess set in front of his chair. He wasn't truly playing a game against himself – though it wouldn't be the first time – instead he was just testing out moves and pondering their advantages. The task was drawing attention away from the dull ache that had settled just behind his eyes.

"Do you play?" the magnetic mutant asked with a gesture towards the game board.

It was a testament to how unfocused he was that Charles hadn't noticed Erik's presence in the room until he spoke. He was relieved to note that the sound of someone speaking did not increase the pain of his headache so he at least took that as a sign or recovery.

"Not anymore," he answered Erik as he moved another piece and knocked over the opposing king. Charles leaned back in the chair and looked at his companion before going on, "It has been a long time since I had anyone to play against."

Erik smoothly sat down in the chair across from him – not breaking eye contact with Charles once – and started clearing the pieces away. "Care to change that?" He asked with a slight quirk of his eyebrow. Even before he got an answer he had begun lining the set back up, ready to start a new game.

Charles did absolutely nothing to hide his surprise, "You aren't afraid that I'll cheat? Raven stopped playing with me years ago because whenever I won she would assume I had been reading her moves before she ever made them."

"Were you?"

"Never," Charles responded firmly.

"Then I will trust you not to cheat." Erik said with a casual tone that in no way hinted that he knew how big of a deal it was to Charles. And it was a big deal. Raven had always known about his telepathy, but had also always been leery of it. She often reminded him not to look in her head – as if he could have forgotten her wishes. When he guessed something about her, she accused him of snooping through her mind. It was a constant battle getting her to understand that he would never use his power against her like that. Then, this veritable stranger walks – or rather gets dragged by a submarine – into his life and within two days he trusts Charles not to abuse his power. It was then that said stranger said softly, "It's your move, Charles."

Charles wondered briefly how his friend had managed to set up the entire board without looking down at it once, because he was positive that at no point in that conversation was eye contact broken. For a few more seconds he stared at Erik searching for some sign that he was going to get up and leave – tell Charles that he didn't want to compete against a telepath – but all he found was trust and a touch of humor. He looked at the chess pieces, feeling an inexplicable joy at knowing that the black set across from him would be moved by someone other than himself, and slowly moved his first pawn forward.

He was rusty when it came to having an opponent so he lost the first two games. He won the third. By halfway through the fourth game he had completely forgotten his headache and the exhaustion of earlier. Instead he was reveling in the thrill of a well matched game. Erik challenged him and fought viciously for every piece on the board, while Charles played the game with more of a calm determination. A peace settled over the two as they spent the day exchanging wins and losses over a checkered board. Few words were spoken but few were needed. All the communication they required was in the smirks when an opposing piece was taken, the questioning looks when a foolish move was made, the narrowed eyes as a new move was planned, and the triumphant grin as another game was won.

Charles found that he quite liked it when Erik grinned.

Their bubble of contentment was disturbed during the seventh (or was it eighth?) game when Hank came rushing in brandishing a piece of paper. "You're headed to Wyoming!" he said as if it was the most exciting place in the world.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and clear, perfect weather to start a trip. Erik and Charles met in front of the building, bags in hand, and slid into the car Moira had rented for them. They both breathed just a little easier being away from the constant watchful – and curious – eyes of the CIA.

Charles hadn't invited Raven, and part of him felt bad about that, but he was unsure what they were going into and he was loath to drag her down too if things went bad. She was busy anyway, helping Hank try to develop a cure, so he doubted she minded being left behind.

It was far too early to be up and being productive in Charles' opinion, so for the first hour or so he just stared out the window and occasionally sipped his morning tea out of a travel cup. There had been some good-natured teasing earlier, debating the dominance of coffee over tea, but he and Erik had agreed to disagree and Charles was glad to just relax quietly.

The wild drinking days may have seemed far behind him, but Charles realized that in truth it had been only a week ago that he was drawn away from a bar at three in the morning to look into a fellow mutant. His body was far from accustomed to the hours of being a responsible member of society and he was certainly not used to seeing this hour of the morning.

Erik seemed to take his lead from Charles, not pressing him for conversation at all despite the nervous way his hands drummed the steering wheel. He waited patiently for the time when Charles would speak up on his own.

Finally, when he felt sufficiently ready to face the day, the telepath took the bait, "What's bothering you, Erik?"

Erik glanced his way, "I can't help wondering what kind of lives they live. How horrible has humanity been to our brothers and sisters? You and I have both seen the reactions that people have to unexplained powers, so what other things might these mutants have dealt with?"

Charles pondered it, mulling the topic over in his mind while he felt the tea starting to wake him up properly at last. "I suppose," he began, "I can only hope that they have had happy lives. Being different does not guarantee hatred, my friend."

"No," Erik retorted, "but hatred is not often far away. All it takes is one person deciding that different means threatening. Or that different means power that can be exploited."

"Yes, I suppose you're right, but until I have reason to believe otherwise I will hope for the best."

Charles could tell even without searching Erik's mind that the German found him infuriatingly optimistic. He supposed it would probably be hard to see the good in others when everyone had only ever shown you the bad. Charles added, "Help Erik see the world in a better light," to his list of goals. He affixed extra urgency to the point because he suspected that, without some belief in the good of the world, Erik fully intended for his vendetta against Shaw to be a suicide mission.

The man had spent his adult life chasing after the phantom of his past, figuring out what to do when he eventually defeated it would be a challenge Charles fully intended to help him face.

Little was said as the miles flew past them. They switched driving shifts periodically while the other slept in the passenger seat. With some speeding, and a little bit of luck, they managed to make it to the small town in Wyoming in a little over a day.

"So, we narrowed it down this far, now how do we find the mutant?" Erik inquired after shaking Charles out of his slumber.

"I found her through Cerebro once, so I've connected with her already. Now that she's within range of my normal abilities I can find her and lead you to her. Her mind will be familiar." Charles raised his hand to his temple, pressing two fingers against it as his face screwed up in concentration. "Far end of town. She's in- Oh. Well this should be interesting." Charles turned to Erik with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "We, my friend, are going to a strip club."

Erik nearly crashed the car as he tried not to choke on his surprise. Charles was grinning at him in a frankly alarming way and Erik warily decided that the telepath was going to have far too much fun with this recruitment. I didn't take very long for his humor at the concept to bleed over into Erik as well and, against his better judgment, he found himself looking forward to how exactly they could handle this.

They pulled into the parking lot Charles has pointed towards, neither one choosing to comment on the completely hideous shade of purple that the doors of the club were painted. Charles started for the door first, followed shortly by his friend. Head held high, he pushed open the doors – trying not to think about all the disgusting things that had likely touched that same door – and made a beeline for a seat near the mutant mind he could still feel in his own head.

Erik cautiously sat down beside him, though Charles could see him rapidly adjusting to the unfamiliar territory. So quickly in fact that Charles decided to have him take the lead. With a quick nod in the girl's direction, Charles made it clear who they were here for. Erik seemed to mull his plan over for a bit, just staring into space as the gears turned in his head. Then without any warning his face split into a smirk, he reached into his wallet and pulled out a fifty dollar bill.

Actually, Charles noted, the wallet he had just taken money from was his and not Erik's. He wondered when Erik had found time to pickpocket him. The amused quirk of the metal bender's lips told him that Erik was completely aware Charles had noticed his theft. And quite proud.

_You have more money than me anyway. You can afford it._

The thoughts drifted through Charles' head and he smiled at the ease with which Erik chose to project thoughts to him. He would find a way to get back at Erik for the prank, but right now there was a young woman – who Charles knew went by the name Angel – sauntering over to the raised bill in his friend's hand.

She swayed her hips as she knelt down in front of them, her eyes lighting up when she saw the amount of money being offered. "For that daddy-o," she told Erik, "you get a private dance."

The two men looked at each other and some wordless decision was made, Erik waved down the bartender and requested a room. Charles added a request for wine, hoping that they would have a new team member to celebrate soon. The establishment must have been more than used to such demands because within five minutes they were alone in a room with the mutant, each with a glass of fairly expensive white wine in their hands. Charles lifted an eyebrow in challenge, waiting to see how Erik was going to play it from here.

The older man responded by lifting his glass in toast, only turning to face the girl after Charles had obligingly clinked glasses with him.

"You cats know its double for both right?" She said once she finally had their attention. She seemed irritated already and Charles honestly wasn't surprised. He and Erik had been paying far more attention to each other than to her from the moment they walked into the club.

Charles put down his drink and sought to reassure her, "No, that won't be necessary, though I'm sure it would be magical."

Of course Erik had a unique skill in pissing people off even more with just a few words and he completely demolished Charles attempt at lightening the mood, "We were thinking more, we'll show you ours, if you show us yours."

The telepath couldn't help the smile that spread across his face and he barely controlled the laughter threatening to spill out. He knew exactly what Erik meant, but he also knew that Erik knew how it would be taken by the dancer in front of him. The metal bending mutant was definitely enjoying himself too much. Charles wondered idly how long Erik was planning on playing this out before revealing to the girl the real reason they were here.

"Baby, that is _not_ the way it works around here." Angel replied, clearly getting fed up with them.

With a snap of his fingers – which Charles knew was purely for show, Erik didn't need to snap to harness his power – Erik lifted the ice bucket containing the wine. "More tea?" he asked Charles.

Once again the telepath found himself struggling not to laugh. Of course Erik would ask him about tea. It had been a foolish hope that Erik would drop the debate over the superiority of tea.

"Don't mind if I do," he answered as casually as he could, trying not to let the inside joke make him lose composure. That was when he got his own idea for showing his power. One that would get Erik back for his earlier prank with the money. It was far better than any mind reading that could be construed as a parlor trick. With a sneaky smile – which earned him a suspicious glance from Erik – Charles pressed his hand to the side of his head and concentrated on an image.

The surprised giggle he got out of the suddenly much more cheerful young woman was all it took for Charles to start laughing too. "It's good, isn't it?" he asked her as he continued projecting the mental image. It was a fun one, he was quite happy with it. As far as the dancer could tell, Erik was now wearing a sequined blue dress, fishnet stockings and a shockingly red wig.

Erik looked between the two of them with narrowed eyes, realizing that Charles had somehow wrested back control of the situation. "What?" he demanded to know.

The only answer was another laugh from Angel as she asked, "How did you do that?"

Charles didn't answer her; he just leaned closer to Erik and said, "You've never looked more beautiful darling."

"My turn." Their newest mutant ally said as she reached back and unhooked the back of her top. Charles and Erik watched in awe as the graceful tattoo that spread across her arms started pulling away from the skin to reveal thin wings similar to a dragon fly. Erik slowly lowered his glass of wine as he stared in surprise at the sight. All the humor and joking faded away and was replaced by admiration. With a smile, the girl lifted into the air and hovered long enough for the two men to look at each other and wordlessly come to a decision again.

"How would you like a job where you get to keep your clothes on?" Charles offered Angel. The answering grin was response enough.

* * *

"Next time, we are flying." Erik insisted as Charles moved another piece on the chess board. "We've been back almost a day and my muscles still haven't recovered from that many hours cramped in a car."

"Yes, I'm sure the CIA will buy us first class plane tickets next time. For right now though, stop trying to distract me from the fact that I'm winning. It won't change the fact that you only have three pieces left."

Erik swore under his breath and Charles shot him a mocking smile.

"Oh, that's wonderful." The telepath said out of the blue as if continuing a conversation that Erik hadn't been a part of. Which was in reality exactly what had happened. He lifted his gaze from the board and told Erik, "Hank tells me we're going to New York City. We leave in the morning."

"I guess you'll want to go pack then. Shame that I won't get the chance to show you how to turn a game of chess around."

Charles laughed, "Oh, no, my friend. You don't get out of losing that easily. We're playing until this is over."

Erik still lost, but he took an astoundingly long time to do it, always managing to keep his pieces just out of Charles' reach. It was the first time Charles had stayed up until 2AM doing something as mundane as playing chess and sipping cheap scotch. It was more fun than any drunken party had ever been.

Erik greeted him the next morning with plane tickets and a cup of tea.

* * *

AN: The rest the gang will be collected next chapter when we return to Erik's POV. Also, general bonding time for Charles and Erik, can't ever go wrong with that.


	5. Family and a Future

Charles looked tired, though with how late they had been up it was no surprise. Erik still kept shooting glances at the telepath as they boarded the plane. He couldn't put a name to the concern he was feeling, all he knew was that something didn't seem quite right about Charles and it hadn't since that morning. As the plane took off, Charles immediately settled back in his chair and shut his eyes.

"I don't know about you, but I feel like sleeping for a week and we've only got a couple of hours. So, if you wake me up for anything other than the plane landing or a life or death emergency, you'll spend your time in New York convinced that you are a five year old girl."

The smirk on his lips made it clear he was joking, but Erik had no doubt that, if he really wanted to, Charles was completely capable of doing exactly what he threatened to. The thought of Charles' ability didn't scare him at all. In fact, the only thing that scared him was the fact that he wasn't scared. Erik wasn't used to trusting people this easily, but there was just something about Charles that made it impossible not to. So, regardless of the fact that Charles could likely kill him with just a whispered suggestion inside his head, Erik felt comfortable in the knowledge that he never would.

The thrill of finding another mutant was enough to keep Erik wide awake, despite his lack of sleep, so instead of joining Charles in rest he cracked open a book and dove into the pages. The steady presence beside him and the soothing feel of being surrounded by metal put him at ease and Erik allowed himself to relax as the miles flew past.

Charles woke on his own about twenty minutes before the plane landed. A cursory look at him reassured Erik that whatever tiredness the telepath had still needed to rid himself of was gone. That strange feeling of unease had dissipated and Charles seemed like his usual overly cheerful-self.

When they left the plane and stepped into the New York sunshine, Charles' steps faltered for a moment before he caught back up to Erik.

The reaction puzzled Erik, so he asked his companion, "Have you ever been to the city before?"

"Once."

Something dark flittered across his face and the metal bender suppressed the urge to pry into Charles' life. It was none of his business unless Charles chose to share it with him. They walked in silence to a taxi stand and the quiet between them prevailed until they were halfway into the city.

"When I was younger, but after I was old enough to drive, Raven and I used to go on road trips. Whenever I was home from boarding school for the holidays, the two of us would just load the car and leave for as long as we could get away with. We always got called back, and for some reason we always went, but those days spent on the road with her were the best of my childhood. One summer we came to the city and spent a weekend here. It was the first time I had ever been around so many minds at one time."

Whatever darkness this story held had faded into a soft smile as Charles remembered the fond times with his sister.

It wasn't until the taxi stopped that Erik started wondering where they were going. Charles had handed an address to the driver but never given Erik the chance to see the destination. He wondered what the possibility was that they were about to end up in another strip club.

A single glance out the cab window dissuaded him of that idea. This building was definitely not a strip club. In fact he wasn't sure what sort of place could possibly need to be quite so extravagant. A rotating golden-edged door was flanked by two men in identical uniforms. Through the glass of the door he could see the interior was all polished marble and gilded lines.

"This is where the next one is?" He asked Charles.

"Hmm?" the man replied absent-mindedly as he counted out the money for their taxi. He clambered out of the cab and held a hand out to Erik in invitation. Erik wasn't sure quite why he took the offered hand and let it pull him out of the vehicle, but he was even less sure why he let the contact remain for as long as it did. The taxi was pulling away already before their hands dropped back to their sides.

"So… the guy we're here for?" Erik tried again to get an answer and to break whatever the mood was that had settled over them.

Charles merely smiled. With a deep breath, he seemed to inhale all of the memories that New York held for him and he let it back out with a visible release of tension. "No," he spoke at last, "this isn't where Darwin is. I can feel him moving through the city though. Driving a taxi actually, the same company as the driver who just left."

"If the guy-"

"Darwin," Charles interjected.

"-Darwin, isn't here then why are _we_ here?"

"To have a day to relax and explore the city a bit. Besides, what better way to catch a cab driver than to see the sights? At some point we'll run into him. It's easier than chasing all over trying to find him as he keeps moving away from us."

Erik sighed in resignation even as he felt the pull towards Charles increase. The man had his own damn gravitational field that Erik was very much in the orbit of. He couldn't form the words to demand that Charles take them to Darwin immediately, so he just followed along as Charles strode through the doors into what Erik realized was the most lavish hotel he had ever been in.

Twenty minutes later, they were standing in a room that was big enough to fit at least three of the basic quarters the CIA had him living in. Two king beds, a full size table and chairs, a ridiculously opulent couch, and a window that took up most of the outside wall. The whole thing oozed wealth and Charles took it all in stride as if these kinds of dwellings were normal for him.

That was the first time that Erik really added up all the little hints about exactly how rich Charles was. Of course he had known Charles came from money, but he hadn't spent much thought on it beyond that. Now he could think of nothing except the designer clothes Charles wore, the boarding school upbringing, the way he bought things without ever actually finding out how much it cost – as if price truly was no concern.

Erik didn't want to compare their lives, but it was hard not to when he realized what luxury Charles had grown up in. Compared to mud, pain, and smoke stacks pumping away the last of his people it was hard not to hate the fact that someone else had been living with satin sheets and unending money all because they were born in the right situation.

It was no wonder Charles had managed to maintain his naïve optimism all these years. He probably had only ever experienced pain and loss through his telepathy. His own life had likely been nothing but privileged and it had led him to see the entire world with an alarmingly cheerful disposition.

Erik swallowed down the surge of negativity and avoided Charles' searching look. The telepath was too perceptive though and he quickly said, "I am sorry for what you went through. I wish I could change it, but the most I can do now is try to make your life better from this point."

Erik almost accused him of delving through his thoughts, but the searching gaze Charles was directing towards him made it clear that the telepath was still just guessing at what was bothering him. Erik chastised himself for thinking Charles would read him without permission.

The heavy silence grew awkward between them and at last Erik grasped at peace, "I don't blame you, Charles." He left it at that but it was enough to relax the younger man who had been standing tense with concern.

All the adrenaline that had been keeping Erik awake faded quite suddenly and – for lack of a better thing to do – he spread out across the nearest bed and let his eyes drift shut.

* * *

"You never told me if you had been to New York before," Charles said a few hours later.

Erik hadn't even realized that the other man knew he had woken up. The metal bender cracked an eye open and turned in the direction Charles' had spoken from. The telepath sat on his own bed, leaning against the head board with an open book in his hands. His face was directed towards the book but it was obvious that his attention was on Erik.

"Shouldn't you already know that answer?" Erik asked in return with a light tap against his own head to make sure Charles knew what he was implying.

Charles scoffed at him, "Even _I_ can't get your entire life story from the few moments I was in your head. I only saw the parts that were relevant to Shaw."

Erik supposed that made sense, his memories of Shaw would have been right on the surface as he fought against the pull of the submarine. "I was here once before," he finally answered the original question. "A long time ago and for a reason not that far from yours. This city was where I escaped to."

"Escaped?" Curiosity spread across the younger man's face but it was quickly followed by a look of mounting horror. "If being here reminds you of Germany we can track down Darwin and leave immediately. I never meant to drag up memories of the camps."

"Could I show you something?" Erik said after a brief pause.

"Do you mean…" Charles wiggled his fingers near his temple with a questioning look. Erik nodded – looking a little nervous. "I will not look at anything that you do not wish to share with me," the telepath assured him.

Erik nodded again in understanding, and then he crossed the distance to where Charles still leaned against the headboard of his ridiculously oversized bed. When Erik sat on the edge of the mattress, facing the telepath, Charles slowly lifted his hand to press against the side of the metal bender's head.

Erik shut his eyes and focused on that first time in New York. The smell of the city breaking through the musty scent of far too much time spent on a boat. The relief sweeping through him and all the other passengers when the realization hit that they really were free from the Nazi's. The shape of an enormous copper statue appearing in the mist and becoming clearer the closer they got; welcoming the weary refugee's to their new home. This city represented hope and a new beginning; Erik pushed all of those feelings through to Charles and he heard the sharp intake of breath at the ferocity of the emotions.

When the hand left his temple, Erik opened his eyes and saw that Charles was staring at him in wonder with moisture gathering in his too-blue eyes. "Thank you, my friend," the younger man whispered.

Suddenly embarrassed by the openness between them, Erik tried to brush it off with a casual, "I'm sure you've seen much better things."

Instead of lightening the moment, the words seemed to deepen the meaningfulness of the situation. A sadness slipped into Charles' expression as he told Erik, "The bad memories, the negative feelings and horrible thoughts, are generally stronger than anything else. I very rarely get to see the good unless I actively seek it out. Which I don't do. People generally aren't exactly happy with me diving through their minds on a scavenger hunt."

Erik had no response to that confession. He had never really pondered the downside to telepathy and the reality of it struck him. "Let's get out of here," he blurted. "We'll grab dinner, walk around… We have the rest of the evening still to enjoy ourselves."

Charles brightened up instantly. Within half an hour they were strolling through Central Park enjoying hot dogs from the first vendor they had found.

"I'm surprised you would lower yourself to eating such commoner food, Charles. Really I expected you to be a fine-dining-only sort of man." Erik jibed good naturedly.

"If you don't consider a New York hot dog to be fine dining, then I'm afraid you truly are a hopeless cause."

"I must disagree. The contents of a hot dog are enough on their own to disqualify it from the fine dining label. Perhaps even enough to disqualify it from the food label entirely."

Charles laughed, a clear and lively sound that warmed Erik's heart. "Erik I do believe you have shown your hand. It seems that the food snob here is you."

"Just eat your questionable food," Erik laughed.

The breeze brushed past them, carrying the city with it, and Erik could almost let himself believe that life could be this simple. Amid the greenery, with a friend at his side, Shaw seemed no more than a distant nightmare. It was a shame really that they would have to leave this all the next day.

Erik was hit with the sudden desire to look again at the giant statue that had once welcomed him to this new country. He wasn't sure if it was telepathy or just old-fashioned perception that made Charles hail a cab and direct it towards the Lower Manhattan harbor. Whichever it was, Erik was glad not to have to put voice to his wish.

He was also surprised to note how little he actually cared about the possibility that Charles may have been in his head.

This time, he got out of the taxi first – Charles clearly letting him reclaim the lead. It didn't take long to find a stretch of harbor with a clear view towards the statue. Erik stared out at it and let the emotions wash over him, reminding him or why he was still fighting to bring down Shaw. That statue represented it all to him. Everything he had been through as well as how far he had come since those days.

He concentrated as hard as he could on the words, _thank you_, and tried to send the thought to Charles.

_I can hear you just fine without you shouting at me._

Somehow, even in his head, Charles voice had a laugh to it. Behind them, the sun slowly slipped down below the skyline and the air turned colder as the lights came on all around them. Erik wasn't sure how long he stood there enjoying the peaceful determination that flowed through him. He did know that by the time he turned to Charles, the younger man had retreated to a bench and was just gently smiling with his eyes closed in contentment.

If Erik were to hazard a guess, he would say that the telepath was enjoying letting the good emotions from Erik flow through his mind.

When those brilliant blue eyes opened – and for once Erik felt like he was the one who could see into Charles' mind – it occurred to him that he was in far deeper, and cared far more, than he had ever planned.

_Shall we call it a night, my friend?_

The words flowed smoothly across the surface of his mind.

Erik glanced back one more time at the statue that called to his past, and then he took a step towards the man who was quickly coming to represent his future.

* * *

The next day came far too soon for Erik's tastes but in a way also took far too long to arrive. Spending time doing something other than tracking down Shaw, or plotting ways to kill him, was a welcome relief in his life, but he also felt the need to return to that path. It was like an itch under his skin reminding him that all of this idyllic time came at a cost of letting Shaw live longer. Perhaps, when everything was over, Erik could return with Charles to New York.

Charles was from New York – not the city itself, but somewhere in the state – so maybe they could visit Charles' childhood home. Meet his family. If he had family. It struck Erik that despite all the telepath knew of his past, and regardless of the bond that had formed so quickly between them, he knew next to nothing about where the man came from.

Money. That much was obvious. There was clearly love as well if the relationship he had with Raven was anything like the rest of his family connections.

Erik decided that he would find out more someday about this man who had invaded his life.

Right now though, Charles was staring into space with a concentrated look and his hand against his head. He had been like that for about half an hour as he worked on directing Darwin to them. Not that the mutant would actually know that was what was happening. Charles was just subtly pressuring him to drive his taxi to their hotel to pick up a fare.

It was easier than having to chase him down while he continued driving through the city.

Still with the slightly blank eyes, Charles rose from the chair he was in and headed to the door. Erik followed unquestioningly – grabbing their belongings on the way out. They were in the elevator and halfway down the building by the time Charles came completely back to himself.

"He's just outside. Shall I take this one?"

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Erik answered with a smirk, "I mean, you will have to live up to my brilliant work with Angel. I'm not sure you have it in you."

"Ah, yes. Truly inspired job you did there. I'm afraid I may never live up to your standards."

The elevator doors opened and Charles ambled to the exit without another word. Erik could see a plot forming in his eyes, but he didn't ask about it. Instead he just let it play out. Charles slipped with ease into the back of the waiting taxi and Erik followed smoothly after him.

"Where to, fellas?" The driver – Darwin – asked.

"Richmond, Virginia, please." Charles stated matter of factly. Erik didn't show his surprise but it occurred to him that Charles may actually be trying to kill him by forcing him to sit through another long, torturous car ride.

"Right, so, you want the airport? The station? What?" Darwin sought to clarify.

Any hope Erik had of those first class seats on an airplane bound for Richmond died the moment Charles replied, "No, we were rather hoping you would take us all the way."

"That's a six hour drive."

It was revenge for something.

Erik was sure of it.

With a glare at Charles, Erik jumped into the conversation, "That will give us plenty of time to talk." With a flick of his hand, he flipped the meter and watched Darwin's eyes widen as he watched the metal move.

Before the mutant even pulled the taxi out into the heavy traffic, he visibly jumped in shock. Nothing else happened for a few moments and as Erik glanced between Charles and Darwin he connected the dots and realized he was being left out of whatever recruitment spiel Charles was giving their newest friend.

Definitely revenge for something.

_Terribly sorry about the six hour drive, my friend,_ Charles' voice said into his mind. _I was just so certain that I would never live up to your recruiting abilities that I decided I would need a full six hours to convince Darwin of our purpose._

Humor danced in Charles' eyes as he pointedly ignored the very creative use of German swear words that Erik sent back his way.

* * *

"If you even _think_ about making this Seattle pick-up into a driving trip, I will hand-cuff you to your chair and leave without you." Erik said as he walked into the library at the CIA facility.

Charles was sitting alone at the chess table again, though he didn't appear to be touching the pieces. In fact, as Erik looked him over more carefully, the telepath seemed to be just a little too pale and there was a slight tremor in his hand. Whatever daze Charles was in broke quickly as the young man faced Erik with a tired smile.

"So, Seattle next then? I've not been to the West Coast before. When do we leave?"

Erik disregarded the question, "Are you alright, Charles?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yes, I'm just a bit tired from all the excitement. Did you know I've gotten another 15 coordinates for mutants?"

"You've been back in Cerebro?"

"Quite a few times. It's really rather amazing."

"Charles-"

The telepath interrupted him, "Do we have the time for a game of chess before we go?" The question was laced with a gentle sense of calm pressed against the back of his mind and Erik felt the concern draining out of him as Charles smiled.

Charles lost the game of chess quite spectacularly – he seemed like his focus was split somewhere else – but he still grinned at the end and congratulated Erik on a good game.

Their flight to Seattle was a long one, and they arrived late at night. Far too late for them to get into the Federal Prison that their next target was in, so they headed to a hotel for the night.

Federal prison.

Erik was noticing a pattern with the particular mutants that Charles selected. He didn't broadcast his theory to Charles, but it was rather undeniable even without confirmation from the telepath.

Each recruit they had gone to came from a bad situation and seemed in need of someone who would care about them. Angel from a strip club, Darwin had been living alone in New York with hardly enough money for food, and now the newest kid – Alex according to Charles – was housed in a Federal Prison where he voluntarily sat in solitary confinement.

Somewhere along the line, Charles had decided on his own that this team of theirs should consist of the misfits and outcasts of the world. Erik found it hard to argue with that plan. He recognized just as much as Charles that these children needed a family. He just never would have expected that he would end up being the one to help fill that spot.

Charles nudged him with his elbow and Erik focused back on what was happening around them. Apparently his thoughts had run away with him a little too much, because he noticed the lamp behind the front desk of the hotel had started to bend towards him. Which would explain the prod from Charles. Thankfully, the man checking them into their room didn't seem to have noticed the sinuous metal and Erik quietly twisted it back into shape.

They had only been in their room five minutes when Charles' eyes widened and he shot to his feet. Almost immediately, he seemed to force composure into himself and he walked swiftly across the room to grab the ice bucket off the table.

"I'm going out for ice," he said rather hastily. Really, a telepath should be better at lying, but Erik let it go without comment. If something was important Charles would tell him.

So, seven minutes, later Erik obeyed without question when Charles' power brushed into his mind and commanded, _Meet me at the car. We need to leave._

Erik stuffed their belongings back into bags and was out of the room before he even fully processed what he was doing. The first moment that he actually wondered what exactly was going on was when he passed another guest from the hotel. It wasn't the guest that told him something was wrong, rather it was the fact that the woman was standing as still as a statue.

Farther down the hallway, Erik could glimpse a pair of children who were similarly frozen –they appeared to have been in the middle of running excitedly towards the pool.

Deciding he could get more answers by just continuing to the car, Erik left the unmoving humans behind. Charles was leaning against the hood of their rental vehicle, stress on his face and two fingers against his temple.

"Did you do that to them?" Erik asked even though he already knew the answer.

"The manager heard something behind him as we were checking in. As soon as we left he went to look at the security footage and saw your display with the lamp." As he spoke, Charles turned to open the car door and the glow of the street light hit his face. Without the shadows obscuring it, Erik could clearly see the beginnings of a bruise forming on the telepath's cheekbone.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine," Charles assured him before he even finished the question. "He just requested in… somewhat impolite terms that we vacate his hotel. Apparently, he thinks we are some kind of freaks."

"And you froze the hotel…"

"Temporarily. I wanted fewer people to be able to witness that we were ever here, so freezing them was the best way to get you out here without being noticed. Besides, it seemed a better option than risking you running into the manager as you came out to join me. I think it is wisest that we not test what exactly you would do if someone pissed you off." This last part was said with a knowing smile and a glance to the light post that had started to creak and groan with Erik's pent up anger.

The metal bender sheepishly repaired the post as he conceded the point. They were in the car and driving to a new hotel by the time it fully hit Erik what Charles had done. It wasn't exactly a secret that Charles was powerful, but this kind of power was far beyond anything Erik would have guessed the telepath capable of. For a young man who seemed to strictly dress in clothes more fitting for a grandfather, Charles was actually quite terrifying.

The second hotel was a lot more successful than the first and the next day the two drove to the prison to collect Alex Summers. With the CIA backing them, it was an easy task to get the teenager out of his cell and back on the plane to Virginia with them.

In another day, Erik and Charles made their way to Chicago where they picked up a scrawny red-head named Sean.

A week later they attempted to pick-up a gruff looking man in a Chicago bar. Erik was secretly glad that one had failed. Neither of them tried particularly hard to convince the guy to change his mind. It was clear from the, "Go fuck yourselves," reaction that Logan was not the person they wanted to introduce to their strange little family.

And they were becoming a family in some strange way. The common bond of mutation drew them together, but the steady reassuring guidance of Charles was what seemed to keep them all a unit. Charles was certainly the reason Erik was still working with the CIA. Charles seemed to be his reason for a lot of things lately.

The reason he stayed up late into the night trading chess moves and bottles of scotch. The reason he found things to laugh at instead of spending all of his time chasing after his nightmares. The reason he wanted more than ever to defeat Shaw, but now the rush he felt was because he wanted to be able to move on with his life.

Moving on. It wasn't something he had ever considered.

Before that night off the coast of Florida, Erik had only looked far enough ahead to defeat Shaw. There was no thought of _after._

After had new meaning to him now. It meant easy smiles, bright blue eyes, and perhaps the chance to unite an entire new species.

The species that Charles kept trying to find more of despite already having found far more than they could keep up with at the moment.

It was two days after they had arrived back from the Colorado incident when Erik saw Charles quietly leave the CIA facility, moving swiftly across the lawn and up into the metal sphere that housed Cerebro. He thought little of it until an hour later when he came stumbling back out of the machine. Erik was on his feet in an instant, abandoning his quarters without even bothering to shut the door on his way out. He slowed just before he rounded the corner into the hallway Charles would be coming through. Instead of speeding the rest of the way to Charles' side, Erik peered around without giving away his position.

It had grown increasingly obvious recently that Charles was hiding something from him and in the back of his mind he knew that it had to be this. He deliberately kept his mind as silent as he could so the telepath wouldn't pick up on his presence.

Charles had made it less than three yards beyond the door.

The sight of him gripped Erik's heart in a vice as his worry spilled over. It concerned him even more when Charles didn't react at all to the outpouring of emotion. Erik knew Charles' power well enough by now to be certain the telepath should have easily sensed the distressed mind hiding at the other end of the hallway.

Instead, Charles sat on the floor with his spine pressed against the wall, his head was tilted back and his eyes squeezed shut in obvious pain. The telepath was breathing heavily and his entire body shook with strain. Hands clenched into his hair and elbows rested on the knees that were pulled up to his chest. He looked frailer than Erik thought he was even capable of.

Erik was striding towards the man well before he decided what he was going to say to him; all he cared about was protecting Charles – from himself if necessary.

* * *

AN: Back to Charles' POV next chapter. Erik being protective, some misunderstandings, and a plan of some sort being made.  
Thanks for sticking with me so far as I get all my Cherik feels out. I hope you guys are enjoying it because I know I'm having fun writing it.


	6. Rest and Fighting

AN: I lied. this ended up being an Erik chapter. I decided that it was better from his POV. That also means the chapter is shorter than I wanted it to be because the plan changed for how far this chapter would go.

* * *

"Does it do this to you every time, Charles?" Erik demanded to know as he neared the collapsed man.

Charles flinched away from the sound as Erik's voice pounded through his already aching head. The silence that followed the question was heavy and Erik wondered if the telepath would just fiddle with his memories – make him forget this encounter entirely – and then send him on his way. It was obvious that Charles was considering a lie at the very least.

"It's just a headache," were the words that finally came out of Charles' mouth, "I can handle it."

Up close, Charles looked even worse than he had from the other end of the hallway. His skin was pale and damp with sweat, his forehead creased with pain and his voice tight with exhaustion. It was almost laughable how obvious it was that something deeper was wrong. "This looks like more than a headache." Erik bit back, but he made his voice softer, working to not deepen the pain that was clearly inside the telepath's skull. For Charles' sake, Erik tamped down on his anger and kept his fury quiet and gentle. Charles seemed to appreciate the gesture, a slight smile split through his worn-out features.

With a deep sigh of resignation, the telepath opened his eyes and looked at the man in front of him. Erik was kneeling in front of him now, one of his hands partly outstretched as if he wanted to comfort Charles but wasn't quite sure how. He settled for resting the hand on the wall next to Charles' head, using it as support so he could lean in closer.

"You have to stop doing this," He commanded, trying to edge some sort of authority into the words instead of just the fear that ran through him. "That thing out there will kill you if you aren't careful."

"I have to find them." Charles replied quietly, looking at Erik – pleading with him to understand. As Erik gazed into the man's tired, pain-stricken eyes, he wondered - not for the first time - how this man could be so damn _good_. Brave and strong and constantly putting everyone else in the world above himself.

"We have plenty of time, Charles," He finally said, "killing yourself to get them won't help anyone."

Some part of the inner fire Erik knew existed inside Charles must have come back at that moment because the words he spoke next were infused with passion and far more energy than he looked capable of mustering. "I'm the only one who can make that _thing_," Charles gestured towards Cerebro, "work. If I get killed in this vendetta against Shaw, I need to know that I have left behind plenty of coordinates for the mutants still needing to be found."

Erik swallowed down the lump of fear that rose in him at the thought of Charles dying for his cause. Erik had long accepted that this quest could very likely end in his own death, but suddenly, when someone else's life was on the line, it was a lot harder to be okay with. If this mission of his killed Charles…

"You have given hundreds of coordinates, Charles," Erik finally argued back once he felt like he could speak without his voice shaking. "Somewhere in that stack of numbers there has to be another telepath who can take up the task of finding new mutants. I need you here, with me, working to stop Shaw. If you're half dead from that damn machine then you're no good to me at all."

As soon as he said it, he regretted the phrasing.

The way Charles' face darkened told him that the telepath had definitely taken the wrong meaning from his words. "I see," he answered in a clipped and business-like tone. All of the open-ness between them shut down as Charles visibly pulled back into himself. "I suppose you have a point. I need to be at my best so I can be a better asset to your cause."

"That's not what I-" Erik sighed heavily, searching for the words to repair the damage. "I just meant that I don't like seeing you beat up like this. Yes, I need you functional so you can help me, but I also want you healthy because I don't like the alternative." The words hardly seemed to sway the determined telepath – though his face did soften again as the misunderstanding was explained – so Erik sought to appeal to the side of Charles that wanted to help other people. "We have a group of kids living in rooms just down the hall. They need you far more than they need me. You have to guide them, teach them… We should focus on them for now and find more later."

The stubborn set of the telepath's expression slowly bled away and he finally gave a tired nod. "I'll stop using Cerebro. You can go back to bed now, my friend. I am sorry for dragging you out."

Erik raised an eyebrow at the man, "You expect me to just leave you out here slumped against a wall?"

"I was attempting to not inconvenience you more than I already have."

"Would it kill you for once to think about yourself?"

"This floor is actually rather comfortable."

"I happen to be on the same floor as you right now and I assure you that it is far from comfortable." Erik rose to his feet and held a hand out to Charles, "Get up. I'll help you to your room."

It took a moment for Charles to comply; he stared at the hand for a second as if building up the strength to reach that far. Eventually though, his hand snaked out to grab at the metal bender's and Erik pulled him up. The telepath almost went down again immediately, knees trying to give out underneath him, and Erik quickly wrapped his arm around Charles' waist to ease his way. They stumbled slowly down the hall, Charles apologizing every few yards.

Erik pushed the door to Charles' room open with his power, glad that he didn't need to remove his arm from Charles. His friend was breathing heavily and Erik was positive that if he let go for even a second the telepath would collapse again. They crossed the room and Erik gently lowered Charles onto his bed – saddened slightly by the loss of contact. Watching Charles try to recover from the trip across the building was much worse now that he couldn't do anything to actually help ease the suffering. He felt useless standing there unable to make things better.

"Why did you keep doing this to yourself Charles?" He said to the tired man.

Charles chuckled, "We already had this conversation. Will you understand it any better the second time around?"

Erik didn't bother to answer. They both knew it was a no anyway. Instead, he glanced around the room with curiosity. It was sparsely furnished, just like his own rather Spartan quarters, but books were scattered across multiple surfaces and that alone made Erik smile. It was just like Charles to fill his home with text instead of decorations.

He grabbed the nearest book and crossed over to the metal chair sitting in front of Charles' desk.

"What are you doing?" Charles asked.

"I'm reading," Erik shot back sarcastically. It was obvious that Charles was going to demand more so Erik gave him a real answer before the question could come again. "I want to make sure you're really okay. I'm staying here until you stop looking like you're about to die."

Charles let out a surprised laugh, "I'm not dying, Erik. I just need to rest."

"Good. Then rest. I'm still staying."

"Then for God's sake don't stay sitting in that horrible chair. I've never seen a less comfortable place to sit." Charles slowly dragged himself to a sitting position and then shuffled over on the bed enough to make room for another person. As soon as he was satisfied, he slumped back against the pillows again and let out a pained groan as his eyes slid closed.

Erik just blinked at him in confusion for a couple seconds. At some point, Charles' ability to bend over backwards for the good of other people had to find a limit. As it was, he just kept astounding Erik with his unfailing kindness. This stupid man – with a genius intellect – had worked himself to exhaustion to find lost souls to save, insisted on then apologizing profusely, and still worried more about Erik's comfort than his own.

"You're an idiot." Erik murmured as he stood back up and crossed to the bed. It did seem a lot more comfortable than the hard edges of the chair. Without argument, he sat down on the bed, resting up against the wall and splaying his legs out in front of him. He lifted the book up again and stared at the words without really absorbing them.

He found his gaze kept returning to the man beside him, watching for signs of pain or anything else concerning. He was glad to note that each time he looked the telepath looked just a little less pale and his breathing became a little steadier. The lines on his face eased as sleep pulled him fully under and his tired mind finally had the chance to rest.

Erik gave up on the illusion of reading fairly quickly and settled for just leaning back and observing Charles, letting the rise and fall of his chest drive away the lingering panic. It was only then that Erik acknowledged how terrified he had been upon first seeing Charles stumble out of the machine.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," he whispered to the sleeping telepath.

He had watched far too many people he cared about die. The last thing he wanted was Charles being added to that list.

* * *

The sound of the door banging open woke Erik up and he blinked blearily at Agent MacTaggert as she stared at him in shock.

"I'm sorry," She stammered out, "I knocked but he didn't answer so… I didn't mean…"

Erik scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to wake up enough to figure out what she was talking about. It wasn't until the body beside him groaned and shifted away from him that everything connected.

Charles.

He was still in Charles' room, in Charles' bed. He remembered putting the book down and he recalled that at some point his back had started hurting so he had stretched out on the bed – fully intending to get up and leave later. Somehow that had turned into having a powerful telepath wrapped up in his arms and a highly embarrassed CIA Agent standing at the door making all the wrong assumptions.

His mind was still trying to form words when Charles sat up and calmly asked, "What did you need, Moira?"

He acted as if this was an everyday occurrence.

Still, it was good to see him bright and cheerful, back to his usual color and no longer tense with pain.

"We think we have a lead on Shaw," Moira finally said, her eyes averted and her cheeks red. "We have to go to DC to meet with the director and make a plan."

All thoughts of the awkward situation they were in left Erik's mind. Shaw filled every corner of his head as he felt the resurgence of the same dark fury that always accompanied that man's name.

Erik practically growled as he pushed himself off the bed and strode out the door, passing Moira with a muttered, "I'll get ready."

He left Charles to deal with any questions the agent may have. The telepath was more than capable of clearing up any confusion and Erik frankly didn't care what MacTaggert thought.

They were in the car and on their way to Washington before Erik had even managed to grab his morning coffee. He was amused to see though that Charles had found time somehow to pick up a cup of tea. The telepath smirked at him over the steaming beverage while Erik sulked and glared.

_You know, usually when I share a bed with someone, it is a bit more exciting._

Erik was suddenly very glad he had no coffee because he was sure the thought from Charles would have been enough to make him spit it out in shock. As it was, he stared wide-eyed and the innocent looking telepath and he wondered when exactly Charles had figured out that he wasn't attracted to women.

He decided to just ignore Charles' voice in his head, opting to stare at the buildings passing by instead.

They arrived in DC with far too much time to spare before their meeting. A little bit of time to kill turned into a lot more time when Moira was informed that, "her," mutants were not allowed inside the CIA building. Still, Erik was glad to at least be close by so that they could get updated as soon as the meeting ended.

It bothered him though to be shut out of his own mission. He had hunted Shaw far longer than any of the agents in that meeting. The bitter taste of discrimination flared up in him and it was a sobering thing. The time with Charles, full of hope and happiness, seemed to dim a little as he was hit with the reminder that humans would always treat people poorly when they were different.

Moira looked at them apologetically, and offered to drop them off at the National Mall so they could see a few of the cities more famous landmarks.

Charles – ever the smart one – had apparently prepared for being rejected from the meeting. Without a word, he pulled a portable chess board from his bag and walked purposefully towards the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Erik's foul mood lightened a little as he smiled fondly at Charles' back before following in his footsteps yet again.

"I can't stop thinking about the others out there," Charles said after they had been playing for nearly an hour. The words immediately brought Erik back to the night before and to what exactly Charles' determination to find mutants had done to him. Charles continued though, and it became clear that this was not an attempt to convince Erik to allow further use of Cerebro. "All those minds that I touched. I could feel them. Their isolation, their hopes, their ambitions. I tell you, we are at the start of something incredible, Erik. We can help them."

"Can we?" Erik replied sadly as he looked out across the reflecting pool, letting Charles' words flow through him. All of that optimism and hope in one person. It was amazing really. He wished he could see the world as the beautiful place that Charles saw. Instead, he was seeing the beginnings of another war. One he was already mentally preparing himself to fight. "Identification," he told Charles, "That's how it starts. It ends with being rounded up, experimented on, eliminated."

As he spoke he allowed bits and pieces of his memories to slip through to Charles' mind, knowing the telepath would pick them up. He turned to Charles, knowing that convincing him of this threat was perhaps the most important thing he could ever do for mutants. Erik needed him for this war and mutant-kind needed the powerful telepath as a leader. Charles was essential.

"Not this time." Charles insisted with his usual blind faith in goodness. He too looked away from the Washington Monument so he could look straight at Erik. "We have common enemies. Shaw, the Russians. They need us."

"For now," Erik conceded, unwilling to let go of his cynicism. "What happens when we defeat them and suddenly mutants are the new enemy?"

"It would never come to that. They will see how much we helped them and they will thank us for it."

Erik chuckled darkly at the words. He knew of thousands of year of history that would disagree with his friend. "It never works like that," he told Charles.

"Then this is a wonderful chance to make history," was the cheerful response. There was an accompanying smile to those words and it pushed Erik over the last of his patience.

"You are a naïve fool," he spat out in abrupt anger.

There was a beat of quiet in which Charles drew himself up from his lounging position on the stairs. His eyes never left Erik's and the change in them was sudden and terrifying. Erik had never seen that kind of coldness in Charles' blue eyes.

"I am many things, my friend," Charles said with deadly calm – somehow making the words, "my friend," seem like the least friendly term on the planet – "but naïve is the _last_ thing you should accuse me of. I assure you I have seen the darkest, ugliest parts of humanity and I will never be able to wash that away from my mind."

Charles didn't elaborate and Erik didn't for a second think about asking him to. The anger that burned in the telepath's eyes – along with the flashes of grief and pain – were more than enough to convince Erik of the truth behind Charles' words.

Seemingly satisfied that his point had been made, Charles stood up – abandoning the partially completed chess game – and strode off in the direction of the towering monument across the pool. It was the first time Charles had walked away from Erik without the implication that he should follow. Erik stayed rooted to his spot on the stairs, staring at the telepath's retreating back, and then he realized that he hadn't breathed in at least thirty seconds. He drew in a deep gasp of air and tried to calm down the rapid beating of his heart. Charles may not utilize it very often, but he had the potential to be truly terrifying.

He was definitely not naïve. Just an insufferably optimistic man.

Erik wondered what things Charles had seen inside the heads of strangers that would bring such conflicting emotions into his eyes. He wondered how those things compared to the new horrors his own memories – of Shaw and of torture – had shoved into Charles head.

Most of all he wondered how someone who had seen so much could still also believe in goodness above anything else.

The chess set remained un-touched until Charles returned; even then it was just quickly picked up and shoved back into a bag. "Moira is coming to collect us," Charles said. Erik got the distinct impression that, if Moira hadn't called, Charles would have taken far longer to come back to him.

His face was smiling but there was a lingering anger within it that made Erik want to apologize for his words. He bit his tongue though. Part of him was just as frustrated with Charles as Charles was with him. Erik couldn't understand why the telepath couldn't see the dangerous place that mutants were in. Shaw was the first step, but after that they would have an entirely new battle to fight and Erik was truly worried that he would find himself on the opposite side of Charles.

Tension was strung between them the rest of the day, Charles hardly looked at him and when he did his eyes seemed a little less bright than they had before. It made Erik's heart ache.

In the car, Moira filled them in on everything that had happened. Shaw was supposedly headed to Russia. They were sending in a team to collect him and figure out what he was up to. Moira was glad to tell them that, after a long debate, she had received permission to bring the mutant team. Charles thanked her for fighting for them, and shot a look at Erik.

_They are not so terrible as you seem to think._

Erik didn't respond. He didn't have the energy anymore to argue that he was just trying to protect his people. He'd watched his kind being slaughtered once before and was certainly not going to watch it happen again the moment mutants became, "too dangerous," for the government to want around. So he sat in silence, letting his annoyance flare to the surface of his mind so that it would be impossible for Charles to ignore.

He only felt a slight twinge of guilt when Charles flinched away from him as if the lash of emotion had caused him pain.

They pulled back into the parking lot of the CIA building as it was getting dark.

"We should collect the rest of the team," Moira told them. "Plane leaves for Russia in an hour."

"I'm telling you," Erik stated with frustration, "These kids are not ready for Shaw."

"I think they're going to surprise you." Charles said back. "They are an exceptional bunch of young people."

Erik wanted to punch the optimism out of him.

* * *

AN: Next chapter will be Charles POV and the trip to Russia.


	7. Russia

The sound of loud music and exuberant voices filtered around the corner and Charles tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

"What the hell?" Moira said just before they came into view of the children.

And they _were_ children. That much became abundantly clear to Charles as he looked at the devastation they had caused. Devastation they were _still_ causing. Glass covered the courtyard from where the window had been blown out – probably by one of Sean's concussive blasts – the statue was sliced neatly in half and streaks were burnt into the ground.

The young mutants they had gathered were dancing amid the chaos, blasting music and swinging wildly off the furniture. Charles didn't look at Erik.

Couldn't.

All he could think was that these kids had been his best shot at helping Erik get Shaw and now it was all for nothing.

Erik was right. They weren't ready and now they were out of time.

Charles cursed himself for going after the mutants who were lost and lonely instead of going for the ones who could maybe have actually helped their cause. These kids needed him, that much was obvious, but he should have sought them out later. After Shaw. After everything dangerous was done.

Not when he needed a team that could work together effectively.

Moira's shouted, "What are you doing?" was enough to stop the young mutants from continuing their party. Each one froze and turned to look at the three adults staring at them through the remains of the window. "Who destroyed the statue?" Moira demanded to know.

Hank was quick to shout out Alex's name, but Raven jumped in correcting him, "No Havok. We have to call him Havok. That's his name now." The sinking feeling of disappointment only got worse in Charles' stomach as she kept talking, "And we were thinking, you, should be Professor X," she pointed to Charles, "and, you," now pointing at Erik, "should be Magneto."

Erik's muttered and sarcastic, "Exceptional," only emphasized the fact that Charles had let him down by choosing these kids. Moira shook her head in exasperation but said no more as she turned away from the sight, followed by Erik.

Charles stood there a little longer, looking directly at Raven. It hurt the most coming from her. He had practically raised her and he had been so sure she would make him proud. He thought she would be the responsible one who held the group together, encouraged them all to act like adults and be a proper team. The sting of being wrong was amplified by the mental picture of his sister standing on a couch dancing while the room was in shambles around her.

"I expect more from you," he finally said to her before he too walked away from the still silent group of children. There would be no more discussion of bringing them to Russia. They clearly did not belong in any sort of fight. It was absurd to think that they might have been ready for this.

When the plane took off for Russia, it was with far fewer mutants than anticipated.

"Stop it."

Charles looked up at the sound of Erik's reprimand.

"I can see you wanting to apologize for something."

The telepath laughed at the words, "I thought I was supposed to be the mind reader."

"Maybe you're rubbing off on me."

"We can only hope. You may be halfway tolerable that way," Charles answered with a grin. Neither mutant seemed interested in holding on to the anger of their fight from earlier. It was a bit pointless now. Fighting each other wouldn't help them defeat Shaw and, as always, Shaw was their first priority.

Charles wondered what exactly would happen if they actually stopped Shaw in Russia. Would Erik disappear once there was nothing tying him to the CIA? To the young mutants?

_Whatever happens, my friend, _Charles pushed into Erik's mind, _I am glad that we met._

_Don't be so dramatic. _Erik thought back to him. _You make it sound like we're going to die._

Their eyes met and the determination and strength in Erik's gaze erased all doubts Charles had about them making it through this encounter. Though it did little to convince him that Erik would still be in his life afterwards. He told himself he would be okay with that, but he knew it was a lie.

The kids waiting for them back with the CIA needed Erik's guidance just as much as they needed Charles. Erik could show them how to accept themselves far better than Charles could and they both knew it. Charles was good at control – at learning how to perfect mutations and use them at will – but he had never really figured out how to accept and be proud of his difference.

Raven alone was proof that the children would flourish with someone like Erik around. Someone who would tell them they were beautiful and that they shouldn't have to hide. Charles envied Erik his ability to do that. He needed Erik by his side after this battle was over.

Maybe they could open up a school somewhere. Find even more mutants and teach them all.

It was a pleasant thought and it occupied his mind as the plane carried them across the ocean and towards whatever fate they would meet there.

* * *

Erik's now-familiar mental voice broke through Charles' wandering mind

_Snap out of it, Charles, we're here._

The telepath pulled himself from his thoughts and finally noticed that the plane had stopped moving. Erik was looking at him with curiosity, but didn't seem to think it was quite important enough to ask about. A brief glance into his mind proved that it was because Shaw was the sole focus in Erik's head right then. Far more important than wondering what thoughts had captivated the telepath for the better part of the trip.

Charles felt a sudden surge of happiness at how easily Erik was willing to speak with him telepathically. He supposed it had to do with Erik's insistence that all mutations were beautiful. It was a wonderful feeling to have someone who could interact with his power without the underlying tone of caution and fear that people always associated with mind reading. Erik's mind was more clear to him than any other and Charles knew it was because Erik didn't make any effort at all to shut him out of it. In fact, he welcomed Charles in. It felt amazing to be trusted so unconditionally.

Moira cleared her throat and stood up to address the occupants of the plane, "Gentlemen, we are here for an extraction. Sebastian Shaw is wanted by the United States Government and intelligence places him at the home of a senior Russian official. As you can imagine, that places us in shaky territory here. We will be going in covertly and not making a single move until we have visual confirmation that Shaw is present. Is that understood?"

The agent looked directly at Erik as she asked the last question, as if he was the least likely to follow her orders. Which – in all fairness – was completely accurate. Still, even Erik nodded his acceptance of the rules as he met Moira's eyes without challenge.

She appeared satisfied with his agreement and led the group off the plane and out to the waiting truck. It was a beat-up looking thing, and Charles was rather amazed that it actually still ran. Especially over the pock-marked roads that they were supposed to drive it over. He didn't question it though as he and Erik were ushered into the back along with the small company of soldiers that had been brought along as a guard.

It was far from the most comfortable riding experience of his life. The bench was hard and cold, just like Russia itself seemed to be, and the back of the truck was really too small for the number of people crammed into it. Erik sat beside him, looking no less pleased with the accommodations. Each pothole jarred them all and made Charles deeply regret not demanding a cushion to sit on.

The soldiers acted more accustomed to this kind of environment – or at least they were better at hiding how unhappy they were – so Charles and Erik just hunched together miserably and hoped it was a short drive.

When the light tap came from the sliding panel behind them, Charles nearly jumped out of his skin. He lifted the wooden board and listened as Moira explained that they were approaching a checkpoint. One that had most definitely not been part of their plan. It would be a bit hard to explain a truck full of soldiers. Charles assured her that he would take care of it, and then he turned to face the cluster of men who he had just become responsible for.

This sort of thing seemed to be happening to him a lot ever since he left his days of bar hopping behind.

If only he had known then – as he chased down Shaw out of pure fascination – what this journey would entail. Though, if he was honest with himself, he would have still made the same choice.

He had no idea at all how he was going to pull this next feat off. Usually it would have come to him easily. Planning had always been a strong point in his life. Now though, the adrenaline and the urgency of the situation made it hard to concentrate on a single idea long enough to decide on a course of action.

Should he wipe the minds of all the guards? Too obvious. Put them all to sleep? Also too obvious. He knew that a more subtle ruse was needed here but his mind was flitting too quickly from one poor idea to the next.

A hand snaked out and rested on his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the churning thoughts.

Erik.

The metal bender squeezed his shoulder firmly, and said nothing. It was exactly what Charles needed. That calm steady presence reminding him that he was powerful. Erik was reminding him that he could do this. He _had_ to do this.

Charles smiled at his friend, broadcasting his thanks and his relief. The truck slowed down to a stop just as the telepath surged to his feet, pressing fingers to his temple and letting his power flow out from him in waves. If they needed to be subtle, he could do subtle.

Footsteps rounded the back of the truck, the voice of one of the agents – Levene – speaking in accented Russian as he explained that they were merely trying to get to their farm. The doors were flung open and Charles faced down a large Russian with a gun. The soldiers tensed – weapons at the ready just in case – and even Erik was clearly worried as the man stared into the confines of the truck.

After a few seconds, the tension bled away as everyone inside realized that somehow – despite staring directly at them – the guard had no idea they were there. Charles wanted to laugh with delight at how easy it was to maintain the illusion of an empty truck. The image took almost no thought at all to plant into the head of the Russian. The stunned awe radiating from Erik made the moment even better, but Charles pushed away his happiness until he knew they were safe. Getting distracted and losing the illusion would be deadly – either to them or to the Russian – and he wasn't about to let that happen.

Finally the door swung shut again and Charles let out a breath of relief as he sunk back onto the accursed bench. The men around him seemed mildly terrified – and thoroughly confused – of what had just happened, but Erik sat beside him with a giant grin – clapping an encouraging hand down on his back in congratulations – and that made everything okay.

As the truck started slowly rolling along again, Charles caught the distinct thought from Erik, _Charles, that was fantastic. I could kiss you._

The telepath raised an eyebrow at him, _I certainly wouldn't stop you._

Erik flushed a light red and looked away from Charles' challenging gaze. So, they were still just going to dance around this whole thing then. That was fine, Charles could wait.

If anyone seemed worth waiting for, it was Erik.

Charles had accepted his bisexuality a long time ago, frequently finding himself in bed with whoever appealed to him regardless of gender. He could sense from Erik though, that these feelings were new to him. He had never truly devoted much time to sexuality because Shaw had so thoroughly consumed his life for so long. Erik had always assumed that, if he was ever interested, it would be a woman who appealed to him.

He had definitely not planned on Charles. So the telepath flirted, and reveled in the steady growth of trust and friendship, but he was careful not to push Erik.

The attraction between them had been growing steadily more apparent as time went by though. Now Charles didn't even need his powers to be able to pick up the signs of desire spilling off of the older man. They had been studiously not talking about it, even when alone, but each day it got a little harder to ignore the pull.

If they defeated Shaw, and Erik decided to stick around, it seemed inevitable that they would eventually explore whatever this feeling was that had so unexpectedly grown between them.

The truck pulled over to the side of the road, careful to remain out of sight from the house. With a cautious air of silence, the truck emptied out and Moira led the troop into the woods. The soldier's spread out to watch their perimeter while the mutants and the agents crested the small hill overlooking the residence.

Their timing was nearly perfect, it wasn't even half an hour before the sound of helicopter blades broke through the reverie of silence. Binoculars were spread out amongst the four watchers on the hill as they waited with bated breath to see the object of their mission emerge. The let-down as only one person –who was very much not Shaw – stepped down from the copter was immense.

Erik was the first to voice out loud what they were all thinking, "Where's Shaw?" He made it sound like an accusation and a question at the same time. Charles could easily feel his turbulent emotions spilling over. Confusion, disappointment, anger… always so much anger in him.

Neither agent seemed likely to answer Erik's inquiry, so Charles stepped in, "I don't know." With another look at the woman in white he suddenly remembered that Shaw had someone like him. Charles had no idea if this woman was the same one who had blocked him back in Miami, but he voiced his caution just in case, "If she's a telepath and I read her, she'll know we're here."

He searched his mind for ideas on what to do next. The soldiers standing guard outside the building caught his eye, "Let me try something else," he told the others as his hand lifted to his forehead.

With practiced ease, he sent his power out across the field and dove into the head of the guard nearest the white woman. He didn't pay any attention to the man he was inside; instead he turned his focus outward. Letting himself see through the man's eyes and hear what the guard heard. It was always a bit disconcerting to feel like he was in two places at once, but he ignored the mild discomfort.

"Shaw sends his apologies, but he's indisposed," the woman informed the Russian General who had greeted her. "He asked me to come in his place."

Charles tuned out the rest of the conversation – it was nothing more than flirting anyway – as he processed the reality of their completely wasted trip to Russia. Erik would be furious.

"He's not coming," Charles said with a slight shake of his head. He released the mind of the guard and turned to Moira. "What now, boss?" he asked her. His hope was that she would get them all out of here before Erik could do anything stupid. Judging by the thoughts coming his way from the metal bender it seemed highly unlikely that it would work out that way.

Still, worth a shot.

As he expected, Moira's immediate reaction was to call off the mission. Unfortunately, Erik didn't even let a full second pass before he made his own decision. "She's his right hand woman. That's good enough for me," he growled out, already moving to go in after her.

Moira put a placating hand on his arm but her words were far from calm, "The CIA invading the home of a senior Soviet official? Are you crazy?"

With a smirk and the words, "I'm not CIA," Erik took off. Completely ignoring Charles calling his name both out loud and in his head.

Stubborn, stupid, idiotic, man.

Charles wished he knew more languages so he could properly call Erik all the horrible things that came to mind as he watched the rash mutant run off on his own again. Because that had always worked _so_ well for him in the past.

Binoculars were raised again and Charles stared with growing horror as barbed wire snaked up and around soldiers, dragging them down and away from their posts. On either side of him Moira and the other Levene were desperately debating what they should do.

He paid them little mind until suddenly the words, "We're moving out," were spoken.

Charles' reaction was an instantaneous, "You can't!" but it did little good. Levene had left already and Moira was well on her way to following him. Charles caught her arm before she was gone and said, "I'm sorry. I can't leave him."

Because it was true. There was nothing in the world that would make him choose to leave with the agents while Erik ran into a dangerous situation alone.

So, he didn't spare the agents another moment of his time as he darted off in Erik's footsteps. Charles had just passed through the gate – still going full speed towards his friend – when he felt his powers pulling him in towards someone's pain. He doubled back as quickly as he could; unable to ignore the suffering of another human being.

The sight of a Russian soldier struggling against the confines Erik had built of barbed wire turned Charles' stomach. The man's struggles were only making it worse and if he kept at it Charles suspected he could accidentally kill himself. "For God's sake, Erik," he muttered as he fell at the captured man's side. "Be calm," he commanded, knowing already it would do no good. He searched the man's head for the words in a language he could grasp. When Charles repeated the words in Russian, he laced them with telepathic power that would ensure the man was knocked out. For good measure, he also instructed the soldier to forget his face.

Then he was off again, not willing to spare any more time making sure the other soldiers were safe.

_Erik, stop!_ He called out as loud as he could in the metal bender's mind.

_I have to do this, Charles._

_I know. I'm right behind you. You don't have to do this alone._

Charles was more relieved than he could possibly express when he felt Erik slow to a stop, breathing heavily with adrenaline. Erik's shock at having Charles join him reverberated through the telepath's mind. He wasn't certain if he should feel insulted or not at the fact that Erik had so little faith in him. Then again, Erik had very little faith in anyone.

It was a simple matter to follow the path of bodies – men Charles dearly hoped were still alive – until he found his friend standing in a hallway waiting for him.

"You came after me." A statement filled with confusion and tinged with a bit of awe.

"I always will, my friend." Charles assured him, "Just, next time, _please_ don't go running off completely on your own."

Erik smiled his wide toothy grin and said, "Deal."

There was just a brief flicker of doubt in Charles' head as he recalled the innocent men Erik had torn through on his destructive path. He forced it away. He understood Erik's desperation for Shaw; he had felt it himself that first night inside Erik's mind. It was really no surprise that he would stop at nothing to get the man who had killed his mother.

They exchanged another look of silent communication before turning as one to continue racing down the hallway. Charles led this time, using the beacon of the General's mind to direct him. Erik was right on his heels – more beside him than behind. Together they reached out for the door handles and threw open the last barrier between them and the mystery woman Shaw had sent.

The sight that greeted them was a little surprising at first. Also, quite disturbing. The General sat on his bed, playing with the air in front of him as if it were a person. When Charles noted the woman in white sitting on a chair to the side – instead of in the General's arms as the Russian clearly thought she was – he was certain at last that she was the telepath he had encountered before.

"Nice trick," he told her after sharing a uneasy look with Erik. Neither of them would soon get the image out of their heads of a man molesting thin air.

He wasn't sure if the illusion broke because of his words, or if it had been intentional on the part of the other telepath, but the General very definitely snapped out of the dream. The shock lasted mere seconds before he was reaching for a gun so Charles didn't waste time on finesse before he shoved the thought, "Go to sleep," at the man.

The woman was on her feet already and in the next second her skin shifted until it was the texture of diamond. Beside him Charles could sense the part of Erik that was marveling at the beauty of yet another mutation, but it was far outweighed by the need for answers. Answers that Charles started actively trying to seek.

It was like hitting a brick wall. A very stubborn brick wall.

"You can stop trying to read my mind, sugar," she taunted him. Along with the taunt came a lance of power that drove a spike into his head. Charles reeled back, suppressing the pained gasp that tried to come out. His hand came automatically away from his head as it tried to distance itself from the sharp sting. "You're never going to get anything from me while I'm like this."

Concern seeped from Erik but faded quickly when it became apparent that Charles was fine.

When the other telepath made a run for the door – trying to vault the table on her way – Erik and Charles moved in tandem, grabbing her arms and pushing her backwards. If the situation hadn't been consuming all of his thoughts at the moment, Charles would have been proud of how quickly he and Erik had learned to work as a team. As usual, they played off each other perfectly, never needing to verbally communicate a plan before enacting it – always trusting the other to go along with it.

It was with that same wordless planning that Charles agreed to help Erik get the woman back against the metal rails of the bed. When the bars started curling around her arms and torso, holding her firmly in place, it was no surprise to Charles at all. Even if it was never voiced, that had clearly been the plan from the moment she started to run.

Erik's voice reeked of deadly intent as he asked her, "Where's Shaw?"

When all she did was glare up at the two of them, Charles felt the anger in Erik snap. The metal of the bed bent once again, this time wrapping around her neck in warning. A dull rumble of emotions started pouring from the metal bender and underneath it Charles could hear some small attempt at words but they were indiscernible. Drowned out by everything else.

"Erik," Charles tried to caution the man with his name alone. Hoping it would bring Erik back to the fact that they needed this woman to talk. The metal only tightened, squeezing at the diamond skin as the woman struggled to get free. "Erik, that's enough," Charles murmured again to no avail.

With the amount of fury pouring off the man Charles would honestly have been surprised to have him listen. Still, the diamond was starting to crack and everything was rapidly spinning out of Charles' control. "Erik! That's enough!" he practically shouted.

The older man only shook his head, breathing heavily as he focused more of his power on the task.

It was still faint and difficult to hear over the roar of emotions, but Charles suddenly understood the words that had been trying to get though.

_Trust me, Charles._

Heart pounding with an emotion between fear and anxiety, Charles swallowed down his desire to force Erik to stop. He looked away from the shattering woman and stared directly at Erik, hoping against hope that this trust was not misplaced.

One last loud crack reverberated through the room, making Charles flinch, and then all the pressure in the room flooded out as the metal released and the diamond form fell away.

"All yours," Erik said with a gesture. "She won't be shifting into diamond form again. If she does, just give her a gentle tap." Beneath the cocky attitude though, there was a whisper of thanks for the trust Charles had maintained. A thank you for not invading his head and forcing him to stop. There was an understanding that Charles had the power to have done exactly that, but that he never would. Never could.

Not to Erik.

So as Erik retreated to the chair that had been recently vacated by the telepath, he sent a torrent of gratitude Charles' way.

While Erik busied himself by pouring a drink, Charles knelt down in front of the woman.

Emma. He could tell now that her name was Emma Frost. Charles delved into her mind freely searching for anything that would help them locate Shaw. Or figure out his plan.

He sifted through information, pulling out anything useful. She was a telepath, like him, but far less powerful. Her diamond shield was strong but she couldn't cast illusions or explore a mind quite the same way he could. That was reassuring. There were other mutants at the fringes of her mind, Azazel and Janos. Charles took all of the information about them that he could and logged it away for future reference.

Finally he reached her memories of Shaw and the world seemed to slow down around him as he watched the man's strategy unfold. Missiles in Cuba. Nuclear war. Every human dead while Shaw rose to lead the mutants.

Charles stomach churned and he pulled out of Emma's mind, frantic to get away from the images of Shaw's dream.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Emma asked mockingly.

His hand shook slightly as he brought it back down from his head. He was certain that something similar to horror – or possibly just disgust – was probably written on his face but hiding it didn't seem like a good use of his time. He kept his voice steady as he turned to Erik, "This is worse than we previously imagined."

Erik stared back at him, the glass of scotch untouched in his hands. Charles wondered exactly how bad his expression must be if it was causing Erik to look at him like that.

Sitting around wasn't going to get anything done, so Charles forced himself to move past the revulsion still pressing against his skull. He informed Emma that she would be coming back to the CIA with them and he didn't spare a thought to the veiled threat she made at his pronouncement.

Later he would wish whole-heartedly that he had paid more attention to those words.

"They have bigger things to worry about right now."

* * *

AN: Erik's POV next chapter as they find out about the attack on the CIA base and move to Westchester. Also, sorry there was a lot of exposition this chapter, I got started and couldn't stop.


	8. Death and Relocation

AN: Trigger warning in this chapter. See end notes for details.

* * *

The news didn't come until they were already in the air, headed home to the states. Emma was secured in the back- placed in a deep and unnatural sleep by a helpful, "suggestion," from Charles. Charles was pacing the narrow floor of the plane, probably letting his mind sort through all the less important facts he had gleaned from Emma. Erik just watched from his position against the wall. He had been sitting for far too long in the horrible truck and the last thing he wanted was to sit more now. So he stood with his arms crossed and glared at anyone who dared suggest that he relax.

Moira had evidently gotten fed up with the surly attitude so she retreated to the cockpit where she could put a barrier between her and the scowl Erik was wearing. He was not in a particularly good mood.

It only got worse from there though. Muffled voices sounded through the cabin, emitting from where Moira and Levene sat at the front of the plane. Erik paid them no attention until the moment that he noticed Charles freeze, one foot still partially in the air.

Erik could tell something was wrong – very wrong – when he watched the color drain rapidly from Charles' face. His shockingly blue eyes grew dim for a just a brief second and then they were glittering with moisture that hadn't quite bothered to actually fall yet.

If Erik had disliked the look Shaw's plan put on the telepath's features, it was nothing compared to the loathing flowing through him directed at whatever it was that had morphed Charles' expression into such agony.

No explanation came and curiosity was battered down by a deep concern that settled into Erik's bones. Charles took a few shaky steps, moving to the nearest chair and collapsing upon it as if the entire world had just ended. He sagged like a puppet with its strings cut and the sight tore at something in Erik's chest.

When the cockpit door opened and Moira emerged looking shell-shocked, Charles hardly reacted. It was nothing more than a slight flinch as if whatever she was going to say would physically hurt him.

The agent looked past Charles – seeming to understand that he already knew her news – and gazed sadly at Erik. She struggled to form words, her mouth opening and closing almost comically as the sounds just refused to come out.

Erik tried not to show how much this entire situation unnerved him. Without really thinking, he surged towards Charles, reaching a hand out to lie on the telepath's shoulder. Later he would wonder if the move had been for his own comfort or for Charles'.

The strained sound of Charles speaking broke whatever spell they had been under, "There was an attack, by Shaw, at the CIA facility." The voice that said the words seemed far more hollow and lifeless than Charles had ever sounded before. The words themselves, sank Erik's heart.

They had chosen intentionally to leave the children behind – for their own safety – and in the end the danger had never even been in Russia.

Moira swallowed hard, blinking back tears and muttering an apology. Either for the attack itself or for not being able to get the words out – to spare Charles from saying them. Perhaps it was an apology for both. She fled back to the cockpit then – clearly deciding that Charles would fill Erik in the rest the way. Whatever that entailed. Whatever damage had been done to so horribly impact Charles. It was possible as well that the agent recognized the need for a private moment between the two mutants as they absorbed and dealt with the news.

When the door had clicked firmly shut behind her, Erik dropped to his knees in front of Charles. He looked straight into the blank blue eyes and clasped at the telepath's hands – seeking some reassurance that it wasn't as bad as he suspected. Charles had his hands curled into fists in his lap, though it didn't seem to be out of anger. More likely it was a desire to feel something other than the numb sense of disconnect.

It was to ground him with physical pain.

Erik pried his hands open, folding them together with his own hands and willing the warmth to seep through into Charles' heart.

He cleared his throat once the silence had stretched too far for him. He had to know, "Charles, how bad is it?"

The telepath took a deep shuddering breath in before answering. That alone, the way he had to build up the resolve to even speak, told Erik he wouldn't like the answer.

"The base was demolished; all the agents left behind are dead. Angel chose to leave with Shaw…" He paused and the look on his face made it clear the next words would sap all of his remaining strength. His eyes – bright with tears – focused at last on Erik's face, trying desperately to find further courage inside the older man. Erik did the best he could to project bravery to the fragile looking man in front of him. Steeling himself against whichever emotions were currently floating around in his head, Charles spoke again, "Darwin is dead."

It was like a punch to the gut. Erik reeled backwards, scrambling to his feet and crossing to the other side of the plane before he even consciously decided to do it. As if retreating physically could somehow lessen the emotional blow. As if running from the painful truth would change the facts. It had never worked for him before, but there still always that initial desire to flee.

Darwin.

Erik remembered the six hour taxi ride as they talked and laughed – all getting to know each other as Darwin was offered a chance at a better life. He remembered the first time Darwin had shown them his power – the barely contained awe that had burst through him. He recalled thinking just a day ago that Darwin was too young to come to Russia. Too young to face that kind of danger. Far, far too young to risk dying.

Now he was just another in the long string or murders left in Shaw's wake. The thought tore at him, making his heart feel raw and tormented in a way he hadn't felt for years. The last time he had known this kind of pain had also been at Shaw's hands.

Erik felt the beginnings of rage – coupled with the inevitable pull of metal bending to his will – and quickly he shut off that line of thinking. Being sealed in a metal tube, 20,000 feet in the air, was the last place he wanted to be if he lost control of his power. Rage was not a good option right now. Especially the unbridled kind of fury he could feel trying to get out.

Casting out for something else to do instead of ruminating on the pain, Erik's eyes fell on Charles again. The man hadn't moved an inch – hadn't even reacted to Erik's sudden race across the plane. Blue eyes stared dully ahead and tears now flowed down his cheeks without hesitation and without notice. He looked lost and defeated in a way Erik had never seen from Charles.

In their time together, Erik had quickly learned to associate Charles with the sort of inner fire that doesn't ever die out. Even when he was collapsed in a hallway the telepath had still held onto that fierce burning power that lived somewhere inside of him. That inextinguishable hope for a better world. For a better everything.

With a sinking feeling, Erik realized what this reaction looked like. This was the way someone responded to death when they had never experienced the loss of a loved one before. This agony was an entirely new experience for Charles. One Erik would have given anything to spare him.

It struck him as odd – in that part of his mind that was still rational – that Charles hadn't ever lost someone he loved. Erik distinctly remembered Charles telling him that his parents were dead. That fact was vastly unimportant in the moment though, so he ignored the questions pulling at his mind.

Right now his focus was on the man falling apart in front of him. Never would Erik have thought Charles capable of looking as near to shattering as Emma had a few hours ago. Yet here they were, with Charles cracking at the seams.

"Charles," he started, keeping his voice soft.

He was unsure where exactly he intended to go with that sentence but it didn't matter anyway. The single word spoken between them snapped Charles out of his silent numbness.

The telepath surged to his feet with an unexpected anger, "I was supposed to protect them!" he screamed. Erik heard it echoing inside his mind as well and struggled not to flinch at the intensity of emotions carried over through the telepathic link. "I found them, I brought them into this, and now one of them is _dead_ while another sides with his murderer! Where did I go wrong?" His voice broke on the last word but he continued speaking, "What else could I have done?" The anger sifted out of him as quickly as it had come, his voice getting quieter as he repeated in an almost pleading voice, "I was supposed to protect them, Erik."

He started to collapse in on himself again, looking like the power to even stand had just drained right out of him. Erik reacted on instinct, pulling Charles into his arms and holding the younger man up when he couldn't find the strength to do it himself. "We," Erik whispered the correction vehemently into the telepath's ear. "_We_ were supposed to protect them. Don't you dare try to take all of the blame."

They stood like that – soaking in each other's warmth – until Charles stopped shuddering with every breath and Erik felt like he could speak again without losing control. The telepath pulled away first, slowly extracting himself from Erik's arms. He returned to the chair he had left so abruptly and sat heavily in it again. He looked a little less haunted, but the edges of his mind were still fraying.

Erik lowered himself into the chair next to Charles and was surprised when the younger man snaked a hand out to grasp his. It was a request for support that Erik readily granted – because honestly he needed that anchor as well.

It was Charles who spoke first, voice far steadier than before, "They have to go home. I- _We_ can't do this. We can't defend them from Shaw. You and I will go after him and we can bring everyone together again after this is over."

Erik nodded as his thumb rubbed soothingly across the back of Charles' hand. The concept of staying with Charles – bringing the team back together – was hardly even a question anymore. "What about Raven?" he asked.

"She'll go home too. She's no better prepared for this than any of the others."

They lapsed into silence and the look of concentration on the telepath's face told Erik that Charles was occupied with some non-verbal communication with someone else. Probably Moira. The theory was confirmed when Charles gave him a tired and mostly-forced smile and said, "Agent MacTaggert has made arrangements for when we land. We'll say goodbye to the kids and then they will each be taken home by a trained agent."

"Raven won't like it."

"I know," Charles responded sadly. "I'm sure the others will be glad to get away from the danger though."

* * *

By the time their car pulled up in front of the wreckage that had briefly been their home, Charles was the calm and composed professor again. Erik couldn't decide if it was because Charles didn't want his own grief to further weigh down the remaining young mutants or if it was merely because he didn't want anyone to see the less collected side of him. He likely hadn't wanted to show that side to Erik either, but that had been harder to avoid.

_You're wrong. _Charles whispered into his head. _I have no need to hide any part of myself from you, my friend. I have no regrets that you were with me in that moment. I will be the first to admit that I needed you. That I still need you._

Erik gave Charles a weary smile over the hood of the car and then they turned as one to walk towards the huddled group of young mutants sitting in the rubble. Charles jogged ahead just a little faster, zeroing straight in on his sister while Erik trailed after him letting his gaze roam over the entire group.

He knew before Charles had even told them they were going home that this group of kids wasn't actually going to be going home. It was in the way they sat, the look on their faces that said they had been beaten down but they were ready to get back up and fight. Erik recognized in them the same spirit that he so often saw in Charles, and he knew no words would convince them to let Shaw get away with what he had done.

Sean was the first to speak up against Charles and he did it with confidence and certainty. "We're not going home."

It was a statement of fact and everyone present knew it except for Charles.

Alex jumped in with further the explanation, "They killed Darwin." As if that was reason enough for four untested young mutants to want to enter a war. Of course, Erik was living proof that a single death was all that was needed to start a life-long vendetta.

"All the more reason for you to leave." Charles insisted, still not catching on to the fact that he was arguing the losing side. "This is over."

When Raven spoke up against him as well, Charles' face shifted to stunned confusion. "Darwin is dead, Charles, and we can't even bury him."

The telepath was still struggling to hold on to the idea of getting the children out of danger, but Erik had made up his mind already. These kids had every right to make the choice themselves and it seemed they already had.

"We can avenge him," Erik said, apologizing to Charles mentally for choosing the opposing side. The young mutants looked at him with silent thanks and a fair bit of surprise.

Charles though looked at him in tired disappointment, "Erik, a word please."

The telepath walked past him and stopped a few yards out of earshot from the kids. Erik followed automatically and readied himself for this fight. If Charles really wanted to, he could just, "convince," everyone to go home and be happy about it. He never would, but the thought had probably crossed the telepath's mind. Erik knew this fight was already won, but he needed Charles to understand why. He needed Charles to forgive him for supporting endangering the group.

"They're just kids." Charles insisted to Erik.

"No, they _were_ kids. Shaw has his army, we need ours. You know we can't win on our own, and we have a group of powerful allies who just lost a brother. They deserve the chance to stand by us when we fight his killer."

Charles wouldn't meet his eyes, his gaze shifted off into the distance as the words processed. Slowly, he turned to face the expectant assembly behind him and Erik could almost hear the gears turning in his head. Calculating what might happen if he allowed this. How he could make it safer. Perhaps skimming the surface of their thoughts to determine how genuine the desire to fight really was.

Finally, resignation crossed his features. "We'll have to train," He told them. "All of us. Yes?"

Erik felt the slight pressure in his head letting him know that Charles meant him as well. Not just the young mutants would be subjected to the professor's tutoring.

Hank spoke up for the first time, ever the voice of reason, "We can't stay here. Even if they reopen the department, it's not safe. We've got nowhere to go."

Charles paused, mulling something over before speaking. With a quick glance at Raven he stated, "Yes we do."

It was with those words, and the agreement to train, that they found themselves spilling out of a borrowed CIA truck a day later and onto the expansive grounds of the Xavier mansion. There was absolutely no other word for the place. Unless a word existed for something bigger than a mansion. Erik felt that same slight surge of jealousy at the difference between his life and Charles'. Not that he would ever wish his past on his friend, but it was disconcerting knowing it was possible for someone to grow up with the absolute perfect life.

If anyone deserved that fate though, it was Charles.

Still, he couldn't completely disguise the envy and bitterness behind his sarcasm as he said, "Honestly, Charles, I don't know how you survived, living in such hardship."

He met Charles' eyes and was surprised to see genuine pain reflected in them but it was gone in the next instant as Raven stepped up beside her brother.

"Well," she drawled, "it was a hardship softened by me."

As Charles wrapped an arm around the young woman, pressing a kiss into her hair, Erik sensed something much darker hiding underneath the jovial tones of sibling teasing. Raven was already walking away though, demanding the crowd trail after her for the, "grand tour," of the place she had grown up. Charles seemed quick to catch up to her when normally it would have been more in character to linger back with Erik.

With one last skeptical look between the house and the back of the telepath's head, Erik joined the rest and pretended to pay attention as Raven shared every insignificant detail of their home that she could think of.

There were signs, ones he would have missed if he hadn't been looking for them. Like the time Raven carefully skirted the topic of why she had avoided a certain room. Or the way she gave a ridiculously wide buffer to the shed in the backyard. The way she slowly crept closer to Charles at certain points and squeezed his hand, or his arm, or just knocked her shoulder against his in a gesture that could be passed off as playful if it weren't for all the other things.

At the end of the tour Erik was far more confused than anything.

Charles cleared his throat, speaking up for the first time since the tour began – which was odd in itself because this had been his house too. "Frankly, we have far more guest rooms than we could ever actually use. They are all fully furnished and well maintained. Feel free to pick any room you want. I'll be in the East wing."

Raven did a spectacularly poor job of hiding her surprise before she reached out to Charles, pulling him off to the side to whisper something in his ear. They were far enough away that Erik couldn't hear what was exchanged between them, but he saw the tightening of Charles' shoulders and the way his hand twitched minutely before relaxing again.

"Further proof that my sister is the superior sibling," Charles said loud enough for everyone to hear. "She has reminded me that the West wing guest rooms are larger and much more comfortable. We'll get you all set up in rooms on that side of the house. You will be far happier with the accommodations."

"And what about you?" Erik asked, masking his suspicion with curiosity.

"Oh, I'll still be staying on the East side in my old room. There's no need for me to worry about moving all my things."

"And Raven?"

"She'll grab one of the West wing rooms. There's one room on that side of the house that she always liked more than her actual room anyway." Charles answered the inquiries with ease but panic surfaced at the edges of his gaze and he wasn't quite fast enough to blink it away before Erik saw.

If anyone else noticed the tension between the two oldest mutants, they didn't say anything. Erik just tried to shake off whatever this feeling of unease was that crept up his spine. He chastised himself for being suspicious of Charles. All of the things Charles said sounded logical to his ears; it was just something in his chest that felt like the logic was hiding a deeper truth.

Charles wandered off shortly after the exchange, claiming a mild headache.

Erik rounded on Raven with startling speed and half dragged her around the nearest corner.

"What is going on with you two?" He demanded to know.

He expected her to deny that there was anything at all to tell, but she surprised him. Her eyes met his with sadness and she simply said, "It isn't my place to tell you."

She slipped nimbly out of his grasp and rejoined the chattering mutant group as if she had never left.

* * *

Erik couldn't sleep.

The rest of the house had fallen into rest hours ago but Erik's mind refused to shut off. The bed was too soft, the sheets too silken, the walls too draped in luxury. It was far too foreign to feel wealth all around him and it set him on edge.

That was the excuse he told himself at least. Pretending completely that his reason for being awake had nothing to do with Charles and Raven. Or the fact that Charles had never actually rejoined the group – filtering in only briefly to grab dinner and then retreating with a murmured apology. Erik had followed him after that, just until the moment he slipped inside his room.

Now he found himself staring at the door to that same room and something tugged at his mind telling him to leave while another part urged him to stay. Erik dragged a hand through his hair and leaned his head against the door in frustration. His hand pressed flat against the smooth wood and he strained to understand the mind of the telepath inside.

"What are you hiding from me, Charles?" he whispered to the silent hallway.

It was new to him, having questions that he couldn't get the answer to. His usual methods of persuasion were certainly not something he wanted to use on his dearest friend. Erik was so used to being able to bully a response out of anyone and now he couldn't for the life of him remember what the procedure was for getting information from a friend.

Right now though, Charles was probably sleeping. Standing outside his door for no reason wasn't going to solve anything and Erik wearily straightened up and forced himself to walk away.

He'd taken only a few steps, when sudden fear started coursing through him and the force of it nearly brought him to his knees. Erik staggered closer to the wall, reaching out for the solid support and gasping as he tried to blink away the black curling into his vision.

Far too quickly, the darkness was all he could see.

He felt small and helpless in a way he hadn't felt in years. A way he hadn't _allowed_ himself to feel since the day he got away from Shaw.

Something, or someone, moved in the corner of his vision and he tried to stumble away. He could hear the thoughts in the man's mind – planning all the new ways that pain could be inflicted. Some decision was reached and agonizing pain burst out across his back. Erik could feel the skin splitting away from muscle as something was beat against him over and over.

His legs finally did give out and he tried to curl in on himself, make himself a smaller target. The emotions flowed off his attacker – rage, jealousy, hate – and the mental attack was nearly as painful as the physical. The warm liquid feel of blood trickling down from fresh gashes in his flesh was an all too familiar feeling. The sting of old scabs tearing open under the new assault only added another layer to the misery.

Whatever had been hitting him was soon replaced by a well aimed kick into his side which made him cry out harshly as pain ricocheted through his ribs. Another came, and another. Directed at any exposed part of him. His frail arms wrapped around his torso, trying to shield his internal organs from the worst of it.

The blows fell on old bruises and not quite healed cuts sending a deep ache through every nerve in his body.

Sobs escaped him and his hands soon scrabbled desperately at the concrete floor – trying to pull himself away from the pain.

It wasn't concrete under his hand though. Everything in his head told him he was lying on the hard concrete of a shed, but under his fingers he felt the undeniable soft give of carpet. Come to think of it, he couldn't recall having any old bruises so where did the certainty come from that the attack was falling on faded wounds?

More importantly, why was he able to hear and feel inside the attacker's head.

With vicious effort, Erik clung to the tiny strands of thought that let him know something was off. The strain of pulling away from whatever was flashing through his mind had him panting into the ground on hands and knees.

This wasn't happening. Whatever it was, it wasn't real.

At least not for him.

The clarity hit harder than any of the blows had.

It wasn't him. None of this feeling was coming from him. The pain, the terror, the absolute agony in every limb… None of it was his.

Charles.

Finally aware of himself again, Erik forced himself to move. The sting of punches raining down on him still flowed through his mind but he shoved the sensation aside. He pulled himself towards Charles' door, consciously focusing on the things around him. If he paid attention to the carpet, to the lighting in the hallway, even to the feeling of his own muscles under skin it all served as a reminder that whatever was going through his head wasn't real.

He tried to remove the blind panic from his head too, but quickly realized that emotion was actually his. He latched on to the power inside him, using it to throw open the door to Charles' room just as he got to the doorway.

He wasn't sure what he expected to find inside. An attacker maybe, Charles in a fight for his life against some unknown assailant.

The peaceful darkness of the room was definitely not the top of his list of expectations. No violent shadows moving against his friend, no signs that anyone else was present at all. Just the grunt of pain that emitted from Charles at the same moment Erik felt a phantom foot connect with his kidney.

Charles was curled into a fetal position in the center of his bed, body shaking and chest heaving. Pale skin was slick with sweat and fingers curled into the sheets – clenching tight against the pain.

It was all a nightmare. All the pain pulsing through Erik's head was conjured up by a dream inside Charles.

Erik pushed to his feet, walking unsteadily to the bed and dropping to sit on the edge. His hand reached out for Charles, grasping the smaller man's shoulder and shaking. "Charles! Wake up, Charles!"

He could see the telepath straining to obey – just as he could feel the pressure in his own head go down a little. Charles was pulling back from Erik's mind. The relief of being released from the nightmare was overshadowed by the deep need to make sure Charles was safe from the dream as well. He shook the man harder, called his name louder, and felt the beginnings of consciousness returning to the telepath.

A surge of shock lashed out at Erik as Charles scrambled to a sitting position, pulling in a deep lungful of air and unconsciously latching onto the hand Erik had been using to shake him. It took a moment for the situation to process through the telepath's mind; he blinked wide unseeing eyes a few times as his heart rate slowly came back down.

When he finally did focus in on Erik it was first with confusion, which rapidly devolved into horror. "Oh, my friend…I'm so sorry, Erik," Charles whispered into the solemn silence. "You were supposed to be on the other side of the house. No one was meant to be near me tonight."

It was just like Charles to be far more concerned with the people around him than with himself even in this situation.

"What just happened?" Erik's words were soft but Charles still flinched away from them.

"I was projecting. It happens sometimes when I have a nightmare."

"I figured that much out already, Charles." Erik replied with exasperation, "I meant, what exactly did you project to me?"

The telepath wouldn't meet his eyes and the quiet stretched between them. Erik took the time to really look at Charles, checking him again for bruises and wounds that he had felt being delivered. It was no surprise that there were none, but what he did see was no better. Scars. Dozens of them littering the skin of Charles' torso.

It occurred to Erik that the few times they had shared a hotel – or a bed – Charles had always slept with a shirt on. Here though, sleeping alone in his childhood room, the telepath had taken it off and that gave Erik full view of exactly why the man had hidden his body all along. Faint white blemishes stood out cruelly against the skin of Charles' torso. Erik let his gaze wander across each mark noticing a few that were strikingly similar to the imperfections on his own body. Burns, the callous drag of a blade… There were many that he could attach a label to, name the the exact cause of, because he recognized the resemblance to his own scars.

Without thinking, Erik reached a hand – the one that was not still clutched tightly by Charles – to run lightly along one of the larger scars. Charles shuddered at the touch, grabbing the hand and pulling it away from his skin as if it burned him.

"Charles-"

"It was my step-father," Charles said in a rush. "And my step-brother on occasion."

Everything clicked into place at once in Erik's head – the haunted looks, the way Charles avoided questions about his family, the way Raven had grown so fiercely protective upon arriving at the house Charles had suffered so much in – and he felt like the stupidest man in the world for not putting the signs together faster.

* * *

AN

Trigger warning: Child abuse - past.

Wow, that chapter ended up being basically nothing but angst. I don't know about you guys, but I really want some fluff now. Next chapter Charles will explain more about his past and then mutant training school begins.


	9. Training

"I'm sorry you had to feel all of that. This house just brings it all back up again." Charles tried to sound casual but he doubted very much that he had pulled it off.

"What happened?" Erik asked quietly. The softness of his voice was dampened somewhat by the violence in his eyes and the steel in his tone.

Charles could tell that Erik's control was already near to snapping so he wondered if he should just erase this night from his friend's mind instead of explaining in more detail. As he looked at Erik he couldn't bring himself to do it. A few metal fixtures might meet their death, but it was better than breaking Erik's trust.

"I was young when my father died," Charles started. "I hardly remember him at all. My mother got remarried to a man named Kurt Marko. When he moved in, he brought his son Cain with him."

Being back in the mansion so suddenly had been bad enough, but as he spoke the memories that filled these hallways pushed at his mind. Charles clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath, calming his mind as much as he could. He had already practically tortured Erik with his nightmare, the last thing he needed was to start accidentally projecting even more memories into the man's head.

Erik had enough bad memories of his own to last a lifetime.

"It started when my powers showed up," Charles watched the darkening of Erik's eyes. Not that it was a surprise that someone as passionate about mutations as Erik would be upset by that statement. "One of the first things I heard was Kurt's voice in my head as he thought about how much he loved being rich. I figured out fairly quickly that the money was all he had ever cared about. My mother didn't matter to him at all. I was a kid though, young and stupid." He let out a broken laugh, "So very, _very_ stupid. I confronted him and he responded by-"Charles breath hitched as he worked again to calm down. "Let's just say that he convinced me not to bring a word of it up to my mother. After that first time, Kurt had figured out how to get me to do what he wanted. He also decided I served as good stress relief I suppose."

If there was one good thing about the way Erik reacted instinctively with anger, it was that there was no room left over for pity. Rage was a much better emotion to be surrounded by instead of the sickening feeling of someone feeling sorry for him.

"My step-brother was very much like his father. He reacted with violence whenever something didn't go the way he wanted," Charles continued. "In the end I'm not even sure which one did more damage. Cain would attack less frequently, but he was more… creative." A shudder ran through his body and Erik automatically squeezed Charles' hand in an attempt at comfort.

The unexpectedness of the gesture was enough to break Charles' hold on his power, he could feel cracks forming in the shields around his mind. Emotion and memory bleeding through and into Erik's skull. The metal bender visibly flinched as the feel of burning skin, broken bones, and the cool drag of a knife all played across his mind. With a surge of effort Charles shoved it back away and sent a whispered apology into Erik's head. The metal bender shook it off, far more concerned with the story than with whatever came through the telepathy.

"Your mother allowed this all to happen?" Erik asked quietly. It was spoken with such disbelief. Something about that fact warmed Charles; it was a sign that once Erik had been happy. Why else would he find it so hard to picture a mother who didn't care at all? Charles was curious suddenly about Erik's family. They must have been very loving.

"My mother," Charles said, unable to hide the bitterness of his tone, "quickly became more concerned with the inside of a bottle than she was with the inside of her own house."

"Did he ever hurt Raven?"

"I never let him." Charles growled out with sudden anger. Even after all these years the very thought of Kurt laying a hand on Raven was intolerable. "When he got in one of his moods, I would tell Raven to run. Or to shift into the form of one of the maids. Someone Kurt would never think to go after. I made sure she never once got pulled into it."

It was clear that Erik had no idea what words he could say to make this better, so instead he just glared at the bed. The sight of the angry metal bender was almost enough to make Charles laugh. Almost.

On the tip of his tongue was the end of the story and he was far too busy trying to get up the courage to admit the last part. "It got to be too much. I wanted to stop them from hurting me." His words faltered again.

Erik prodded him on with a soft, "Did you?"

Charles forced his voice to stay steady, though it still sounded weak and pathetic to his ears, "I killed him."

The anger disappeared from Erik's mind entirely as it filled with shock and confusion. Which, to be fair, was a reasonable response to what he had just confessed.

"You-"

"Killed him. Yes. You heard right." Charles closed his eyes against the memories and leaned forward, resting his forehead on Erik's shoulder. It occurred to him once he was there that this was perhaps not a level their friendship was at yet. When Erik wrapped an arm around him, Charles breathed a sigh of relief. It was easier to talk without having to actually look at Erik's face. The warmth of Erik's arms and the gentleness of his mind wrapped around Charles encouraging him to elaborate.

"I didn't have proper control of my powers yet. I hadn't had the chance to learn it. That day, Kurt had dragged me into the shed, grabbed a tire iron, and started hitting." Tears were starting to fill Charles' eyes and he was even more glad that he wasn't looking directly at Erik. "I thought I was going to die. He had never hit with anything harder than a stick before. I was so certain he would kill me… So I told him to die. I forced the thought into his head and the next thing I knew he was collapsing. Brain aneurysm is what they finally concluded. It was the closest explanation they could think of."

"He deserved it, Charles," came Erik's consoling reassurance. "And you had no way of knowing what would happen."

Charles let out a hollow laugh, "No. I had no idea it would work. Cain though, what I did to him was intentional. I knew exactly what I was doing. We got home from the funeral and the first thing I did was go to my brother and dive into his head. I didn't kill him. I wanted to at the time, but I knew it would look suspicious. Instead I just ripped and tore at everything I could find. I broke his mind in every way imaginable. What I did to him was monstrous."

"He deserved it." Erik insisted viciously as his hand traced along one of the scars on Charles' back.

"No one deserves to suffer the way I made Cain suffer."

"No one deserves to suffer the way he made you suffer either."

"That doesn't make it right for me to do it back to him."

They fell into silence then, an unspoken agreement that neither was going to change the other's mind. Erik kept his arms around Charles and the telepath kept his head on Erik' shoulder. He wasn't certain which one of them was being comforted in this situation, but it didn't really matter.

Erik's gentle hands rubbed absent-minded patterns against Charles' back, stopping once in a while at the feel of a scar. Each time it happened, Charles could feel the slight increase in anger growing inside the older man's mind again. The depth of emotion that Charles' past had dredged up in Erik was stunning really. He hadn't expected his friend to care quite so strongly about him.

When the metal of his bed started slowly warping, Charles pulled away. "Calm, my friend. You cannot change the past."

Charles felt Erik slowly regaining control of his anger, replacing it with amazement.

_What are you thinking of, my friend, that surprises you so much._

Erik didn't even react anymore to hearing Charles' voice in his head. Not even a slight twitch of shock. Somehow this kind of communication had become normal between them.

_I always assumed you were so optimistic about everything because you had never known the darker side of things. Now I can't figure out for the life of me how you went through all this and still kept your optimism. I never knew people like you existed._

Charles let out a brief burst of laughter and then slipped back into speaking aloud, "People like me?"

"Yes, people who are so incorruptibly _good_ that nothing in the world can make them lose hope. People so strong that they don't even know _how_ to give up."

"I don't agree with your words, but I thank you for the compliment regardless. Now, we should both get some sleep."

Erik nodded, but to Charles surprise he didn't stand up to leave. Instead he pulled himself farther onto the bed, moving around so he was stretched out beside Charles.

"Erik," Charles began softly, "If you stay here I cannot guarantee you won't get pulled into my dreams again."

"Good. Then you'll have someone here to wake you up." The older man responded as he closed his eyes.

Charles gave up without even really trying. He could admit to himself pretty easily that he enjoyed having Erik next to him. Especially with the memories of the mansion pressing in around him.

* * *

Erik was up already by the time Charles dragged himself out of bed. A brief stretch of his power told him the metal bender had found his way to the kitchen. Charles headed that direction. For the food of course. Not just to see Erik.

When he did see Erik though, he just watched the man in stunned silence. He was leaning against the counter, sipping coffee, and all around him breakfast was being made. A spoon absently stirring some sort of batter in a metal bowl. A knife cutting strawberries into perfectly even slices. A pan drifting through the air before landing on the stove.

Charles watched with amusement as Erik flicked a hand towards the bowl and it lifted into the air, floating towards the pan. Soon a pancake was merrily cooking away on the stove without Erik so much as touching a single thing.

"I see you have some skills you never shared with me," Charles interrupted the peaceful scene.

Erik spun around, letting the knife clatter to the counter as his focus was lost. "Charles! You really shouldn't sneak up on people."

"Does it really count as sneaking? I was merely wandering into the kitchen of my own house. I do believe I have that right." He smiled fondly at the red that was spreading across Erik's face. "You are allowed to be more than just a surly mutant you know. No one will think less of you for liking something like cooking."

"I know that." Erik snapped, but the annoyed tone still spoke more of embarrassment than anything. Still, he returned his attention to the kitchen and resumed cooking as if nothing had ever happened. Charles quietly got tea for himself and then just watched from the side lines as the stack of pancakes grew.

The smell must have attracted the crowd of young people because before they knew it four more mutants had joined them, shoving into the seats at the table and grabbing at the food. Charles grinned at the sight, spearing a pancake for himself before they were all gone.

They were delicious.

"Alright," he stated loudly once he had finished eating. "We are going to start training today. Each and every one of you. Alex, we'll start with you. As soon as you finish eating we'll get to work."

The blonde boy nodded and crammed another obscenely large chunk of pancake into his mouth.

* * *

"My step-father," Charles told Alex, swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat at the memory of Kurt. "Took the possibility of nuclear war quite seriously. That's why he had this bunker built down here." He wandered down the length of the room as Alex trailed behind carrying a mannequin. The young man looked very confused so Charles elaborated a little more, "I thought we could use it as a practice range."

Surprise flashed across Alex's mind at the thought of someone actually wanting him to use his power. "You don't think I'm going to blow through the walls?"

Charles chuckled and reassured Alex briefly, "I think it can handle you, Alex."

The sense of fear, disbelief, and insecurity still radiated out from him making it clear Charles' words hadn't had much of an impact. "You know, when I do this, bad things tend to happen." Alex stated with one last attempt to convince Charles this was a bad idea.

"That's because you can't control it," the telepath insisted instead of backing down. "It controls you."

Those words ended up being the guiding force behind his interactions with each mutant throughout the next few days. He needed them to learn control. The first day was easy, he just tried to learn everything he could about their powers. He discovered that Alex's energy burst could be very destructive to nuclear bunkers. He learned that Sean could find the perfect frequency to screech so that glass could shatter. He learned that Hank had a lot more strength than he let people believe.

Hank also had a truly brilliant mind. Charles sat down with him after their first day and hashed out all of his ideas. "Could you create something that would help channel Alex's powers?" Charles asked.

The young man nodded slowly, "I think so. It's just an energy beam so in theory I can whip something up to focus that power."

"Excellent. I had another thought as well. Sean's powers create sound waves; at the right frequency I do believe he would be able to keep himself airborne. Capable of gliding really. He would need a way to control his descent and his direction though."

Hank seemed more confident now as he nodded again, "Yeah, I can definitely do that. In fact I could probably come up with specialized suits for all of us. I'll line Erik's with metal, give Sean wings, and of course they should all be bullet proof and easy to move in…" Hank stood up, still muttering about his plans as he wandered absently out of the room without even a goodbye.

Charles retired to his own room, not entirely surprised to find that he missed Erik's presence in his bed, and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

Hank worked fast. Before lunch the next day he had whipped up a prototype for Sean's wings. They were marvelous really, attaching to his back and again at both wrists. The bright yellow stripes were perhaps a bit much, but really he wasn't going to point it out.

Instead, he worked quietly beside Hank to strap the wings onto Sean all while the young man asked over and over for confirmation that this really would work.

"Anything is possible," Hank told him, driving Sean's nervousness up another notch, "I based the design on-"

"Hank," Charles interrupted, "stop talking."

The man was a genius with technology and science, but rather useless at dealing with people sometimes. Of course, Charles supposed that everyone at the mansion seemed to have that problem at times. He tried to be as confident as possible, pushing some of that assurance into Sean's mind as well, and led the boy over to the window. Only the second story, not somewhere where too much damage could be done if this failed.

Charles noted with amusement that Erik seemed to have rounded up the rest of the household to watch the show. They leaned out the nearest window with laughs on their faces and Charles suspected that Alex had started a bet with someone about how this test would work out. Erik's cocky smile seemed to imply that he had placed a bet as well.

_Are you betting against him or for him?_ Charles asked Erik.

_Ten dollars that it doesn't work._

Charles hid a smile, _I'll take that bet, my friend. This will work._

It didn't work.

Thankfully, there were no broken bones, just a few bruises and some wounded egos.

"I think we need to start from a higher place," said Hank. "He needs more momentum going."

Sean's terrified look was very poorly hidden and Charles patted him on the shoulder before saying, "Don't worry. We'll only go as far as you are comfortable with."

It was easier to teach Hank control. All he really had to do was learn to let go of his insecurity. Charles suggested a run around the property and Hank readily agreed. The elation pouring off the young mutant as he completely outran him was enough to fill Charles with hope that maybe they really could turn these kids into a working team.

Of course Alex shot that joy to pieces with a few harsh words that drove Hank straight back into his shell.

Charles sighed heavily, too exasperated to try anything else that day. He made his way to the old study, prepared to just sink into a chair with a book and ignore the world for the night. He found the study already occupied though.

"I'm sorry, I'll leave you in peace," Charles hurriedly said as he noticed the man already occupying the room.

"Stay, Charles." Was Erik's immediate response, "I'm sure you're far better company that the thoughts in my head." He gestured to the chess set near the middle of the room with a questioning look on his face.

Charles readily accepted the offer, lowering himself into the chair and waiting for Erik to make the first move. Just like that, the exhaustion and tension that had built throughout the various failures of the day eased out of him. He found himself laughing with Erik, content to find the humor in the moments that had not gone quite as well as they hoped.

"You must admit, Charles, Sean did let out a marvelous scream as he fell. I didn't know vocal cords could make that sound."

Charles laughed, bright and loud, "Yes, well, we did push him out a window. I would have screamed like that too I imagine."

Erik moved his Knight, capturing a Pawn that Charles had neglected to defend. "So, when do I get my ten dollars?"

"How about we make it double or nothing on this game? I win and you owe me twenty."

"It hardly seems fair to do that, Charles." Erik smirked, "It would feel like I was just cheating you out of your money."

Charles gestured around the extravagant room, "Well, on the off chance that I lose the game, I feel that I can certainly afford to lose twenty dollars."

Erik took a long drink from his scotch before finally saying, "Deal. No complaints when I win though."

With another chuckle, Charles just made his next move. They settled into a silent match for a while, both enjoying the quiet company. Charles let his mind stretch out to Erik's, not reading it but soaking in the feelings there and the presence of Erik. If he could stretch one moment out into eternity, it would be this one. The warmth and contentment flowing freely between them and creating a happy escape from the tension of what was to come. Here in this room, at this game board, Shaw could not touch them. The looming threat of nuclear war seemed distant and unimportant. All that mattered was Erik and the small black and white pieces in front of him.

The peaceful moment was broken when Erik looked Charles in the eye and said, "You know that this can't last, right, Charles? The CIA being on our side? Once Shaw is no longer a threat, we will become the targets."

Just like that, all the stress of what was to come spilled into the room, tearing apart the calm they had found together. "Erik-"

"No. Hear me out, Charles. I've been here before and I've seen it happen. Humans do not react well to people that aren't like them. They will hate us, fear us, and they will wipe us out because of it. Humans are our enemy."

Charles swirled the scotch around in his glass, watching the amber liquid as it came near to spilling but never quite went far enough. He finally met the challenge in Erik's eyes and replied, "I can only hope that one day they prove you wrong. That one day you will change your mind about them."

Erik scoffed and leaned back away from the board. "Unlikely."

"And what would you suggest, my friend? That we kill them all just like Shaw is trying to do? No, Erik, that is not the way to peace. It would only end in death, yours most likely." It was amazing really that they could argue like this with such steady voices. Both so convinced of the way they saw the world and yet neither one willing to risk destroying this friendship over a few words said in anger.

"You are always trying to save me, Charles." Erik mused aloud. "Ever since you dove into the ocean and dragged me out. Did it ever occur to you that I might not be worth saving?"

A genuine smile broke out on Charles' face as he brightly answered, "No, my friend, not once. I have every confidence you are well worth saving. But, I never truly believed I _could_ save you. You are not the sort of man who someone saves. The choice to be a better man has always been yours to make and I hold no illusions that I can make that decision for you. I simply have faith that one day you will save yourself. I only hope I am still at your side to witness it."

Erik looked away from him, not quite fast enough for Charles to miss the emotion in his eyes. Even if he hadn't seen it, he felt it clearly. The depth of gratitude emanating from the metal bender was astounding. Charles wondered when the last time was that someone had chosen to believe in Erik. When had Erik last been told that he was worth something?

"Someday, Charles, I hope that I will be the man you seem to think I am."

_You will be._

Somehow, the words seemed to carry more meaning when he spoke them straight into Erik's mind. Maybe it was the fact that they were wrapped securely in feelings of confidence and hope.

The intense moment between them faded and Charles quietly moved his Rook into position before he grinned and said, "Checkmate."

* * *

The next day dawned and Charles rolled over in his giant bed, ignoring the pang of loneliness he felt knowing Erik was on the opposite side of the house from him. He had come to terms already with the fact that Erik wasn't ready to be anything more than friends, but still, if these were to be their last few days it would have been nice to spend them together. Suppressing a sigh, he dragged himself out of bed and thought over what he wanted to do that day.

Hank was still fine tuning his work on Alex's device, Sean had yet to decide he was ready to jump from anything higher than a second story window, and Raven had never really needed to train anyway. Her control was already nearly perfect. That left only one person and he was the one Charles had been avoiding working with.

He had no idea what he could possibly do to help Erik refine his powers. They seemed so extraordinary already, but it was evident that he struggled sometimes to control them. It was a puzzle Charles wasn't sure he was up for solving.

It was taken out of his hands when he approached Erik. The metal bender had a smile on his face and he proudly informed Charles, "I know exactly what we should do."

The telepath wasn't sure how exactly that disarmingly happy grin had led to this. He stood in front of his house, a gun in his hand, preparing to shoot Erik in the head. The metal felt heavy in his hand and he despised the thing just for the pure destruction it could cause.

Images flashed through his mind of how Erik would look with his brain lying on the pavement and that stupid smile still spread lifelessly across his face.

"You're sure?" he asked Erik again, trying to convince the stubborn man not to go through with this.

"I'm sure," was the cocky response, that damn grin not even dimming a little.

Oh well, it had been foolish to hope that he could get out of this. Charles took a deep breath and pulled back the hammer of the gun. "All right," he muttered more to himself than to Erik. His hand was shaking and he couldn't quite get himself to tighten his finger around the trigger. He tried taking a deep breath again, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment in hopes that blocking out the radiant smile would make it easier.

It didn't.

Frustration was probably coming off of him in waves, he was certain it had to be leaking through into Erik's mind but he didn't take the time to care. All he could think about was what would happen if Erik was wrong. If he wasn't nearly as powerful as he thought. Charles couldn't dare risk it. The cool metal in his hand got heavier with each passing moment and with a final resigned groan he lowered the weapon. "No. No, I can't. I'm sorry." The words tumbled out of his mouth as he refused to look at Erik. He felt an inexplicable sense of shame at not being able to do this simple thing that Erik asked of him. "I can't shoot anybody point blank, let alone my friend."

Undeterred, Erik reached out for his wrist, pulling the arm back up and pressing the gun against his own temple, "Come on, you _know_ I can deflect it," He tried to reason, "and you're always telling me I should push myself."

Charles latched onto those words in an instant, using them to get himself out of this situation, "If you know you can deflect it," he pointed out, "then you're _not_ challenging yourself."

Erik looked about ready to argue again and Charles let out a frustrated breath as he tried to come up with a solution to their stand-off. Inspiration struck suddenly. "I have a better idea. If you're so certain you can stop a bullet, and I am incapable of even attempting to shoot you, why not stop a bullet aimed at someone else."

With quick movements, before Erik could take the time to process what was happening, Charles pulled his wrist free from Erik's grip and backed away a few paces. With a satisfied smile, Charles lifted the gun again and pressed the barrel against his own head.

* * *

AN: 0.o How will Erik react? Probably not well. Find out next chapter.


	10. The Last Moments of Peace

AN: Two chapters in one day! I just couldn't leave that cliff-hanger for that long. Of course, this chapter is a cliffhanger too, but I like to think it is a more friendly one.

* * *

Erik froze, smile finally slipping from his face, hand half stretched out but not daring to move closer in case Charles pulled the trigger. This was not at all how he had planned this exercise. This was so very far from anything he ever wanted to even think about. The sight of Charles looking cheerily back at him while a loaded gun pushed against his head was fuel for nightmares. He could already tell this image, this moment in time, would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"That isn't funny, Charles," He managed to grit out.

"Oh, I'm not joking. I assure you I am quite serious about this. You see, I can't bring myself to shoot you. I am certain of that. But I do believe I could manage to pull this trigger if you aren't the one at the end of the gun. I have every faith that you will be able to stop the bullet." Charles smiled at him as if his life wasn't in danger. "You wanted to stop a bullet; I am giving you a way to try."

Erik reached his power out, feeling the gun and each small bullet in the chamber. For one crazy moment, he considered doing exactly what Charles asked of him. Then he growled out, "I won't play with your life like that."

"But you'll play with yours?" Charles shot back, obvious anger in his tone. It was rare to hear that emotion from the telepath and Erik's fear for Charles went up a notch. An angry Charles was far less likely to listen to reason. He wondered if he could pull the gun from Charles' fingers before it went off.

He settled in the end for continuing to try talking Charles down, "Of course I would be willing to play with my own life like that. If my power fails while the gun is aimed at me, at least I'm not killing anyone important. Your life matters far more than mine."

It was the wrong thing to say.

"My friend," Charles said almost sadly, "You couldn't be more wrong."

Then his finger was tightening on the trigger and everything started moving too fast. Erik reacted instinctively, he lashed out with his power and with decisive finality he melted every bullet inside the gun, feeling them drip out of the weapon in glorious, non-lethal liquid metal. The vice of terror around his chest loosened and Erik sagged with relief.

The useless gun lowered at last and Charles just gave an exasperated sigh as he said, "Really? That's your grand plan?"

"I won't let you shoot yourself, Charles." Erik insisted. His heart was pounding and his breathing was still struggling to regain normality. "I don't have enough confidence that I can stop it and I will not allow you to put your life on the line for the possibility of finding out."

"I trust you enough." Charles replied with his usual easy faith, "You once tried to stop a submarine – I have every confidence that you can stop a bullet."

Frustration pounded at Erik's temples as he tried to think of the words to explain to Charles all the reasons that was a terrible comparison to make. He settled for just, "That was completely different. I need the situation, the anger-" He had meant to go on but Charles interrupted.

"No, the anger's not enough."

He sounded so sure of himself. As if he somehow understood Erik's powers better than him. It was absurd. "It's gotten the job done all this time," Erik argued back.

Charles was prepared for that answer though, "It's nearly gotten you _killed_ all this time." Along with the words, Charles projected an image to him. A memory really, of drowning in the Atlantic ocean with so much anger boiling inside him that he hadn't even noticed he was dying.

Erik had to admit it was a good point. Not that he would admit it _to_ Charles, but he would definitely concede the argument to himself.

"So what exactly do you suggest?" The question was half mocking but there was definitely a significant part of him hoping that Charles actually had an answer to the question. One that would help him avoid those near-death moments in the future.

As always, Charles delivered. After a brief hesitation, his brow furrowing in thought, Charles clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Come here, let's try something new."

It irked him that Charles could revert back to smiles so soon after having a gun to his head, but Erik supposed there was nothing he could really do to change it. Charles was, after all, an unfailing optimist in everything he did. So, instead of drawing attention to the annoyance, he just followed Charles over to the side of the pathway.

"See that?" Charles pointed across the lawn, indicating an abandoned satellite dish. "Try turning it to face us."

Erik frowned and glanced at Charles to make sure he had heard right. Surely he had to realize that Erik had nowhere near that kind of power. Still, the telepath just nodded and looked expectantly back at him as if waiting for some great show of skill that was never going to come. Erik resigned himself to looking stupid failing this test and with a flourish of his hands he stretched his power out across the grass.

The massive hulk of metal filled his senses, calling out to him but refusing to respond the way he wanted. He strained against the metal, fighting it and feeling for any possible weakness in the construction that he could utilize. He thought that there was perhaps a little movement, a centimeter at most before he couldn't hold on anymore. His power rushed back to him, releasing the very much stationary satellite.

Erik let out a gasping breath, letting his head fall and his body lean up against the concrete fence. A slight headache made itself known at the back of his skull and he could feel Charles' gaze still on him.

"You know," Charles spoke up, no hint of judgment in his tone. "I believe that true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity."

The metal bender looked back towards him, not quite understanding where this was leading. Erik had always been good at rage, it came easily to him. He had no idea where Charles expected him to find serenity. Though he had to agree that it was a tactic he had never tried before, so it could be worth a shot.

Charles must have sensed his doubt, his inability to find the serenity that he needed, so the telepath lifted a hand – holding it near his own temple but not touching – and asked, "Would you mind if I…" His fingers wiggled slightly, indicating exactly what he was asking for.

It had been a long time since Charles felt the need to _ask_ before going to his head. They had come to an unspoken agreement awhile back that permission was no longer necessary. That fact alone made Erik realize Charles was asking for something more here. He was asking to go deeper than surface thoughts, deeper than simple emotions and projected images. Without hesitation, Erik nodded.

Quite suddenly, Charles was inside his head in a way he had never been before. He was proceeding with gentle caution through Erik's oldest memories, searching for something that Erik was quite positive didn't exist at all.

That certainty was proven wrong when Charles latched onto something deep in the recesses of his past. A long-forgotten moment from well before the camps and the devastation of war. The telepath grabbed the memory and pressed it into Erik's conscious mind, a place it hadn't dwelled in years. For the first time in decades, he could picture his mother's face as she smiled at him instead of the sound her body made as it hit the floor. He felt his mother's soft caress on his cheek and the anticipation of eating his birthday cake. He remembered what it felt like to be loved unconditionally.

He recalled a time when his first thought each day had had nothing to do with death or pain. This memory, this brief moment of his life, was what peace felt like. It was beautiful.

He snapped back to reality as he felt Charles pull back out of his head. A tear fell unbidden from Erik's eye but he didn't care at all. That kind of beauty… It was no wonder Charles always fought so hard for peace.

Erik's gaze focused on Charles in time to see the telepath wipe a tear from his own cheek. If it were anyone else, it would have bothered him to know that they had seen that memory. Charles was the exception. Erik doubted there was anything he would hide from the younger man.

"What did you just do to me?" He asked. He meant it to sound only curious, but the emotions were still too raw and it came out sounding almost accusing.

Charles, always understanding far more than he should, seemed to realize that the tone was not meant as a complaint against him at all. "I accessed the brightest corner of you memory system." Charles explained to him as he moved closer to where Erik still leaned against the fence. "It's a very beautiful memory, Erik. Thank you."

Even Charles seemed to be struggling to speak in the wake of such emotion, so Erik made no attempt to cover up his own feelings. He knew his eyes were still red with tears and his body practically trembled from the intensity of the moment. "I didn't know I still had that memory," he whispered. His voice was hoarse and he tried to project his thanks into every corner of Charles' mind.

"There's so much more to you than you know," the telepath replied. Those bright blue eyes of his looked into Erik's unflinchingly, still brimming with left over tears. "Not just pain… and anger. There's good too. I've felt it." It seemed like a conversation they had had a thousand times, but for the first time Erik let himself actually believe what Charles was telling him. "When you can access all of that, you'll possess a power no one can match. Not even me."

Something shifted between them in that instant. The sincerity, the faith and trust that Charles placed in him – all of it largely undeserved – it struck at the very core of who Erik was and he wondered why he had ever fought against this. The gentle courage of the man in front of him, tempered by a fierce determination, and powerful optimism drew Erik in like a moth to flame. It had been inevitable really, from the moment they first met, that Erik would fall in love with the infuriating telepath.

He wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but now that he had admitted it he could easily see the marks of that feeling building up through every interaction and each second spent together. It was a hell of a time to come to this realization. Just as they were going to battle the most dangerous man on the planet.

Charles was looking at him oddly, but that familiar presence in his mind wasn't there so he was clearly minding his distance. Probably felt it was kindest to leave Erik a moment of privacy in his own mind while he dealt with the emotions brought up by the resurfaced memory.

Breaking the emotionally laden silence, Charles turned him back towards the satellite and said, "So, come on, try again."

Holding on tightly to the peace he had found with his mother, and adding in the emotion of love that was pounding through him freely, Erik faced the dish and reached out again with all his strength. He was almost certain that another tear made its way out from his eye, but he ignored it. Instead he reveled in the way the metal answered to his call now. It didn't fight him at every push the way it had before. The entire satellite reacted as if it was a part of him, listening to what he wanted and doing exactly as he commanded.

A smile spread across his face, turning into a laugh as the heavy metal dish creaked and groaned. This time when he released it, the satellite was turned completely towards them. Physical proof that Erik was more powerful than he had ever thought possible. Proof that he could achieve things with more than just anger.

Any moment of celebration that they would have had was interrupted by Hank coming out of the house and stealing Charles away. The scientist insisted that they needed to try Alex's new device.

Erik just stood and stared across to the satellite, soaking in the pride and hope that a feat like that had awoken in him.

* * *

The next day, Erik rolled out of bed with excitement. His usual grumpy morning attitude disappeared before his feet even touched the floor because he remembered the metal giant that had obeyed his every command.

Charles gave him a few surprised looks over breakfast, probably curious about his sudden cheerfulness. The kids all looked at him with a mixture of horror and concern. As if he were either dying or plotting something. Their expressions only made him smile wider.

When breakfast ended, and Alex was assigned dish duty for the morning, Charles declared that it was time for Sean to take the next step.

With a great deal of trepidation, Sean led the way up to the top of the massive satellite dish. Erik trailed after him, followed by Hank and Charles. None of the others seemed particularly confident that this wasn't just a very stupid way to kill a teenager. Oddly enough, despite his earlier doubts about Sean's flying ability, Erik found that he actually had more faith in this working than any of the other mutants present. Maybe it was because he had seen what Charles could do. Seen the way Charles brought out a mutant's gifts in spectacular ways.

Especially as they stood on the satellite that Erik had moved just yesterday, it was hard to doubt in something that Charles believed was possible.

"Do you truly believe I'll fly this time?" Sean asked with a quavering voice. His eyes looked pleadingly at Charles who was busy double checking all the straps on his wings.

"Unreservedly." Charles said back. He projected complete confidence, but Erik knew him well enough to see the slight doubt lingering under it all.

Sean obviously didn't notice that same doubt because he stood a little taller and his voice shook less as he said, "I trust you."

Charles responded with, "I'm touched," but he hardly seemed to be paying attention. His focus was on the task at hand and not the words.

"I don't trust him," Sean continued, gesturing to Hank.

The scientist looked offended and was about to say something in response but Charles' quick interjection of, "say nothing," stopped him. Erik had to bite back a laugh at the interaction. Really, if Sean should be mistrusting of anyone on this satellite if was him.

Despite Hank remaining silent, Sean's courage still faltered again. He gazed over the edge and took a hasty step back with a loud proclamation of, "I'm going to die!"

Charles was still in the process of telling him that they wouldn't force him to do it when Erik lost his patience. He pressed a hand firmly to Sean's back, said, "let me help," and then pushed the teenager off the platform.

The telepath's first reaction was to chastise Erik. The exasperation and panic in his voice still managing to sound almost fond. Then they both followed the falling boy with his eyes. There were a couple seconds where Erik wondered if he had just killed a kid, but then with a screech his sound waves caught and held. Erik smiled as Sean dove again and with another scream he flew even higher.

Finally, Erik turned to Charles. The younger man was glaring at him, but the effect was significantly dampened by the completely unhidden smile.

"What?" Erik asked with feigned innocence. "You know you were thinking the same thing."

Charles just sighed, tried – and failed – to remove the smile from his face, then turned to make the long climb back down to the ground. Erik followed after with a pleased smirk.

They parted ways for the rest of the afternoon, Charles retreating to the bunker where he continued to work with Alex and Erik wandering the hallways looking for something to do. He wasn't entirely certain when it became so dull to spend time away from Charles. It wasn't really a new development, just one he hadn't actively noticed until now.

He drifted into an exercise room and found Raven busy bench pressing a spectacular amount of weight. Erik was torn between marveling at her strength and being annoyed at her insistence – even while alone – in hiding her true form. He decided to offer some unsolicited advice.

With a quick movement, Erik lifted the heavy weight straight out of her hands; letting it float a good six feet off the ground. "If you're using half your concentration to look normal, you're only half paying attention to whatever else you're doing," He lectured. "Just pointing out something that could save your life."

With a glance upward, he released the floating weight, letting it fall back towards the young girl. He had the metal completely in his control, it would never make it far enough to hit her, but she didn't need to know that. As he had hoped, Raven's reaction was instinctive, her blond disguise rippled away from her as she turned her entire focus to catching the bar. Succeeding with ease at stopping it from crushing her.

"You want society to accept you," Erik pointed out before leaving," but you can't even accept yourself."

* * *

The news came later that day. Moira called them all in to the sitting room, motioning for them to watch the TV. With the pronouncement from the President – which confirmed that the missiles inbound from Russia were about to start a nuclear war – the group of young mutants accepted that the next day they would go into battle.

"I suggest you all get a good night's sleep," Erik said before stalking off to the study. His good mood wasn't exactly ruined, but it was definitely dimmed by the thought of taking his new family into a life or death situation.

He didn't even recall ever deciding that they were all his family. It had just sort of happened without his permission. Whish didn't change in the slightest the fact that he wanted nothing more than for them to all be safe. Especially Charles. He wished suddenly that he was still fighting this battle alone. It had been much less stressful when the only person he had to worry about keeping alive was himself.

He knew that in the end he wouldn't truly give all this up just to go back to those simpler times. Simpler was far from being the same as happier.

Unsurprisingly, Charles soon entered the study as well. Chuckling lightly when he found Erik already sitting at the chess table with the pieces arranged to start a fresh game. "I'm beginning to think that I am rather predictable," Charles mused.

In response, Erik just silently held up the glass of scotch that he had already poured for the telepath. Charles sunk into his usual position and took a swallow of the alcohol that Erik offered him. Erik moved his first piece and they fell into the casual peace that he had learned to love about these games.

Charles was the first to speak, "Sean's scream was much more spectacular this time and yet far less amusing."

"Yes, we will have to push him out a window again at our earliest convenience, just to see what happens."

"Erik!" Charles scolded, rather ineffectively because it was surrounded by laughter. "You already shoved him off a satellite; I would be surprised if he lets you within a hundred feet of him now."

"A wonderful point. _You_ shove him out a window then. He'll never expect it from you."

Charles just laughed again and took another sip of his drink. "Hank tells me that he has completed his serum. I have no idea how that boy has found the time to do so many things. And, Alex was spectacular today. I wish you'd been there to see it. He hit a single mannequin dead on without hurting me or Hank."

Erik's hand stilled on the Bishop he had been about to move. "You were inside the bunker with him while he used his power?" Anything that was left of his good mood dissipated at the thought.

The telepath seemed unaware of the sudden shift and he brightly replied, "Oh yes, I stood right next to the mannequin. I knew he wouldn't hit me, that device Hank whipped up for him is marvelous really."

"Charles! He could have killed you!" Erik burst out. The metal chess pieces shook ever so slightly and Erik reigned his temper back in. "Is this a habit of yours? Asking your friends to kill you so they can test their power?"

Apparently more amused by his outburst than anything, Charles countered with, "Well it does seem to be a pattern that I unintentionally developed. But it also gets results and I am most assuredly not dead yet."

"Yet." Erik mumbled sullenly. "Give it time; I'm sure you'll manage to kill yourself in some stupid way trying stubbornly to help someone else."

"More than likely," Charles said back. Erik ignored the twist in his stomach at hearing Charles speak so lightly of his own death. "That sort of thing does sound like me I must admit."

Erik couldn't find words to answer that with, so he settled for just pouring his attention back into the game. He would deal with Charles' complete lack of self-preservation another time. Right now, he just wanted to focus on this last night together. And, he noted with a touch of horror, it really could be their last.

"You still owe me twenty dollars."

The words were unexpected and sudden, tearing Erik away from his forced focus on the board. He raised an eyebrow at the telepath and asked, "Is that really important right now?"

"Of course it is. I must have the joy of mocking you for losing."

"I'm pretty sure you already did."

"I'd like another opportunity."

Erik just stared at Charles, this conversation was going somewhere very deliberate and he had no idea where it was.

"How about a deal," Charles stated as he swirled the scotch around slowly in its glass. "You give me my twenty dollars the day after tomorrow. No earlier and no later. If you can manage that, I won't even mention your embarrassing defeat at chess the other night."

So that was what it was leading to. Erik smiled and quietly said, "It's a deal."

He knew as well as Charles that the promise they had just made had nothing to do with twenty dollars. It was simply a promise that they would both still be alive after tomorrow. After Shaw.

"Charles," Erik spoke softly, "Tomorrow, when we face Shaw, I need you to understand that I intend to kill him."

"I know." Charles replied with equal quiet in his voice.

"Do you have it in you to allow that?"

Silence surrounded them, filling the air and weighing them both down. Charles let out a soft and bitter sounding laugh, leaning forward as if he wanted to say something, but never managed to get the words out. Sadness shone in his eyes and it was an emotion Erik hated himself for putting there.

"You've known all along why I was here, Charles," he tried to reason.

Charles took a deep breath, "If killing Shaw is truly what you want, then I will not stop you. If I tried, I would be a hypocrite myself. I killed my own tormenter and I cannot rightly stop you from doing the same." The words seemed to take all of Charles' strength but he kept speaking, "In the end, I have no right to be the one to deny you that goal. So, no, I will not stop you. However," Charles paused again, but it seemed more for emphasis than for collecting himself, "I want you to listen to me very carefully, my friend; I have been down this path before. Vengeance, sounds fantastic until it actually happens. It will leave you hollow and lost, not make you whole. Trust me, as one of the few people who can speak from experience on this matter, killing Shaw will not bring you peace."

"Peace was never really an option." Erik countered, wishing the response hadn't caused the sadness to grow behind Charles' eyes. He couldn't help but push the topic though, "Peace will not be an option between humans and mutants either, Charles. You have to realize that."

"Perhaps not." Charles surprised him by saying, "Maybe peace was never really in the cards for either of us. Peace may not be possible – and believe me I will stand by your side and fight if it comes to war – but I need you to remember who exactly your war is with. There is a difference between killing those who have tormented us and merely slaughtering innocent people. War does not mean genocide, Erik. There will always be those who wish to harm us for being different, but that does not give us the right to kill those who only wish to help."

"You're right, and I would never ask that of you." Erik assured him. "Even if it meant I went off on my own, leaving you here to build your school in peace, I would not drag you down with me. You are not made the same way that I am. There is a goodness to you I can never match and if I were the one who put you in a situation that stole that from you…" Erik trailed off, letting his emotion get the better of him. After a moment he cleared his throat and looked Charles in the eyes, "I would never take you down into my darkness."

"And yet," Charles gently reminded him, "even on the day we met, I was willing to be dragged to the bottom of the ocean if it meant a chance to save you. I would follow you anywhere, always doing my best to be the voice pulling you back from the brink. If your concern is some poorly founded fear of corrupting me, Erik, I assure you that I can take care of myself. Whatever happens tomorrow, we will be leaving side-by-side. If a war starts, either against Russia or against mutants, I will still be with you to fight it. And I will be with you to remind you who the enemy is whenever you have trouble seeing it."

Someday, the unending hope that resided in Charles Xavier would stop surprising Erik. It certainly wasn't today. He had done nothing to earn this level of devotion and yet Charles offered it freely. A choice Erik was positive the telepath would come to regret one day.

_Stop doubting yourself, my friend._

Erik nodded mutely at the words and then, simply because he had no other reaction to give, he moved his Knight to capture one of Charles' Rooks. The game proceeded, but the room felt different. The easy relaxation was gone and had been replaced with a far more intense emotion. One Erik couldn't quite name.

Without warning, Charles knocked his own King over. "I concede," He murmured.

Confusion washed over Erik, as far as he could tell, the one losing had been him. There was definitely no reason for Charles to give the win to him.

"Erik," Charles tried to say, but the name broke partway through. He cleared his throat and continued, not meeting Erik's eyes as he spoke. "We're going off to battle tomorrow, possibly to war, and to what may very well be our deaths, regardless of how much bravado we try to exhibit. Just in case that is how it ends," Charles held up a hand to stall Erik's protests, "just in case, Erik, I need you to know how much you mean to me."

* * *

AN: Cuba is coming next chapter (at least part of Cuba).


	11. Cuba

AN: Sorry this one took longer than normal. I'm in the middle of my finals week.

* * *

In the end, the choice had been simple. Charles was done waiting for Erik to decide that it was time to stop hiding. They were out of time and he was damned if he would go off and risk his life without at least making sure Erik knew. So he sat there, staring awkwardly into the amber liquid of his scotch glass, and hoped that this wouldn't destroy the friendship they had built.

"Erik, you…" Charles cleared his throat, trying to get the sounds to stop getting clogged with emotion, "I suppose the best way to put it is that I feel like you are the other part of my soul. I can't imagine my life without you, and I wouldn't want to." Did that sound too serious? He wasn't sure. Did he want it to sound serious or did he want it to be more casual? Maybe he should have decided these things before he spoke. Despite his insecurity, Charles mouth kept running without his permission, "I do believe I am in love with you."

Silence met his words and Charles hoped it was just because he had stunned the older man. That was a far better scenario than that he had so thoroughly disgusted Erik that words couldn't express it. Charles knew he could have just slid into Erik's mind, gotten his reaction from there, but it felt wrong to even consider it. Just like it had always felt wrong to use his powers to confirm how the metal bender felt about him. Sure, he suspected that Erik felt the same, but he had always refused to actually search Erik's mind for proof.

It was torture though, sitting there waiting for a reply. Some sort of reaction to his words.

Charles couldn't take the quiet anymore, so he finally lifted his gaze, meeting Erik's stare head on. The older man was looking at him with a mixture of awe, surprise, and vulnerability swimming in his eyes. It wasn't a look Charles would ever have thought to see on Erik's usually stoic face.

He had gotten grins out of the man, even full on laughs at times. But, he still had always managed to hold back a part of himself in every display of emotion. Now though, he seemed completely open to Charles in a way he never had before.

Erik had never denied him access to his thoughts, but it was with the understanding that Charles wouldn't pry. So even though he had often had the chance to delve into Erik's emotions, he had always resisted out of respect for the metal bender's wishes. Now, everything was bared before him and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He suspected Erik wasn't even aware of how much his feelings were bleeding over to Charles. If he was aware, he didn't seem to mind at all.

"At some point, I was expecting some sort of response," Charles said with a wry smile. His worries had been eased significantly already just by what he saw in Erik's gaze. Whatever it was that had held the older man back all this time seemed gone and he made no attempt to hide his feelings. He just also made no attempt to voice them.

Erik was never much for talking about his feelings anyway. Charles knew all along that Erik was a man of action, so it didn't surprise him at all when Erik stood up and walked around the chessboard. He knelt beside Charles' chair, bringing his eyes level with Charles' and staring at him with that same vulnerable awe.

Charles could tell he was searching for something, possibly waiting for a sign that this had been a joke or something. Unwilling to go farther until he could be certain that Charles' words had been true.

The telepath didn't speak, not even inside Erik's mind, but he sent a rush of emotion towards Erik. Letting the metal bender soak up all the love that Charles felt for him. Layering that with the contentment and joy Charles always seemed to feel when he was with Erik. Adding to it all the intense connection he had felt for the man from the moment he first sensed his mind in the Atlantic Ocean.

The only outward sign Erik gave that he was receiving the tide of feelings was the hitch in his breath and the glassy look his eyes took on. Erik lifted a shaky hand and pressed it tentatively against Charles' cheek, uncertain even now. Charles responded by pressing his face more firmly into the hand and curling his own fingers around Erik's to hold him there.

With a harsh exhale of breath, Erik's eyes drifted closed and his head sunk forward to rest against Charles' shoulder – a mirror image of that first night in the mansion when Charles had turned to Erik for comfort. The intensity between them seemed too much for the older man to handle and his entire body was trembling with the emotion. The telepath got the distinct feeling Erik thought he was dreaming and that he was trying to absorb as much of this moment as possible before he woke up. Charles hated that life had damaged this beautiful man so completely that love seemed an impossible dream.

He hoped that he could spend his entire life proving Erik wrong about that. Just as he hoped to spend his life working to erase the pain that always lingered in the deepest parts of Erik's mind.

For now, he was happy just to revel in the feel of Erik pressed against him. Content to sit and marvel at the love pouring off of the man who leaned against him as if he were the only solid thing in the world.

Charles' hand drifted to the back of Erik's neck, rubbing soothing patterns into the skin. The touch seemed to pull Erik from his own thoughts and he lifted his head again. His eyes still held that same vulnerability and openness but now there was love shining through as well. Slowly, allowing Erik plenty of time to pull away if he wanted, Charles leaned towards the man kneeling on the floor in front of him.

He brushed his lips gently against Erik's, a tentative touch that probably still clearly broadcasted his uncertainty. Despite all his confidence, the fear of rejection was hard to get rid of. He needn't have worried though, as soon as his lips met Erik's, the metal bender was responding. Lips parted under his and the kiss deepened long before it had the chance to be considered chaste. Charles' hand was still curled around Erik's neck and the other found its way to the older man's chest.

Erik meanwhile tangled a hand into Charles' hair and used the other hand to pull Charles out of his chair as he got back to his feet. They stood up together, not breaking the kiss for even a second. An arm snaked around Charles' waist, pulling him closer to Erik's body, pressing them together tightly.

The kiss broke with a gasp as they both dragged air into starving lungs. Charles' lips tingled and he found that he already missed the feel of Erik's mouth against his.

_Do you want to take this to my room?_ Charles whispered into Erik's mind. He noted with slight amusement that they were quite nicely fitting the stereotype of people wanting to make the most of their possible last night on earth.

_My room is closer._

Charles really didn't care if it was stereotypical. He had waited far too long for this moment and all he really cared about was that it was happening.

Erik's room _was_ closer, but they never made it that far. Charles was quite glad that his family had an exorbitant amount of guest rooms because the one two doors away from the study was as far as he could manage to get before he was pushing Erik against the door and kissing down the man's jawline. Erik let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl, and he fumbled around behind him for the doorknob.

They tumbled into the room, shutting the door behind them. Charles breathed out a laugh against Erik's neck when he heard the lock click into place with just a touch of Erik's power. Then he focused all his attention on the man he loved.

* * *

Charles wanted nothing more than to stay in bed all day, limbs entwined with Erik's and the sun playing across the older man's well-muscled torso. It wasn't an option of course, but that didn't stop him from wanting it.

Instead, they had a war to avert.

Erik groaned as Charles started trying to extricate himself from the pile of limbs and blankets. Then his eyes flew open in surprise, meeting Charles' amused gaze. The older man's mouth gaped open in shock and Charles caught the distinct thought from him that this had to be a dream.

_No, my love, it wasn't a dream._

Charles chuckled and pressed his lips lightly against the corner of Erik's. "Come on, I'm sure there's coffee downstairs as well as a team of mutants waiting to help you take down Shaw."

Erik nodded mutely, still processing everything. It amused Charles how out-of-it Erik was before his morning coffee. Though, apparently not quite as out-of-it as the telepath thought. Just as he managed to swing a leg off the bed, preparing to go make tea, Erik's face split into a smile and he grabbed at Charles' arm. He dragged a laughing telepath back towards him and pinned him down against the bed with his body.

The metal bender hovered over Charles, grinning down at him for a moment. Then the amusement drifted away and turned into a much softer expression filled with love. Charles raised a hand to rest against the side of Erik's neck, pulling him gently down for a lazy kiss. On any other day, Charles would have loved to allow it to turn into something more, but they parted reluctantly with the knowledge that they had no time to waste. Erik pressed his forehead to Charles' resting there for a moment with his eyes shut while they savored the last few minutes of true peace.

Then with a sigh of resignation, he pulled himself away and out of the bed.

Charles followed suit, stretching and yawning as he dragged clothes on for the day. They meandered to the kitchen, prepared their morning beverages – rehashing the old debate between coffee and tea – and ate some cereal. As they ate, the rest of the crew filtered in as well. All except Hank.

When they had finished, the group wandered to the lab in search of the wayward scientist.

The note on the lab door was suspicious, but far less so than the complete shambles the lab itself had become. Charles remembered distantly that Hank had announced the previous day that his serum was complete. A dark foreboding started in the pit of his stomach. Had Hank really been stupid enough to try an untested drug on himself?

There were more pressing concerns though. Cuba was far more important than whatever had happened to Hank. The scientist had been well enough to leave a note, so he clearly hadn't died. In fact, he had found the time to finish battle suits for the entire team. Ugly bright yellow and blue suits.

Still, they would offer some protection. And of course for many of them, the suits also came with specially designed features just for them. Charles' suit had no such features. He was rather glad of it. Hank was a fantastic man, but everything he had designed looked horribly uncomfortable and the added features only seemed to make it worse.

The group reluctantly suited up and headed to the hangar where Hank, and his jet, awaited.

Hank wasn't quite what any of them were expecting though. Charles' eyes widened as he took in the new blue form of his friend.

"Never looked better," was Erik's response. Charles saw nothing wrong with the compliment, but almost immediately Erik was fighting for breath as Hank thoroughly expressed his displeasure. The telepath was mere moments away from barging into Hanks' mind and forcing him to let Erik go, but the scientist seemed to regain control of himself and dropped Erik of his own accord.

It wasn't the best of starts to their day, but the group marched on to the jet undeterred and hoped for the best as the thing took off.

The jet really was as marvelous as Hank had said, flying them to Cuba with incredible speed. Charles and Erik had somehow ended up on opposite sides of the plane and the telepath regretted it deeply. His hand very nearly ached from the desire to curl his fingers around Erik's. If there was ever a moment that lovers should be holding hands it was this. Hurtling through the air towards an unknown situation against a deadly enemy.

It was now, in the last moments before their mission truly began, that Charles lamented being separated from Erik by mere feet.

It all came down to today. Shaw, Russia, the crushing possibility of a devastating nuclear war. One way or another it would end today. And, Charles was positive, that at least one mutant would be dying. He was just uncertain which side that mutant would be on. He hoped that a single death would be the worst thing that happened today, but he doubted it.

If there was a bright point, it was the fact that Charles knew beyond any shadow of doubt that, even after Shaw, Erik would be staying with him. There was no more fear that the metal bender would flee from the team the second his objective was complete.

Across the aisle, Erik kept glancing at him with unshielded affection and still that lingering tint of awe. As if he still couldn't quite believe that last night had really happened. Charles was positive that the other occupants of the jet had noticed and were simply politely ignoring the shifted dynamic in their relationship. They would have to be nearly blind to not see the love that the two older mutants were so clearly broadcasting.

Anxiety crossed briefly through Erik's features and Charles frowned in concern. _What troubles you, my friend?_

Erik never broke eye contact and the look he shared with Charles was one of fierce determination as he thought back, _I just want you to remember the twenty dollars I owe you. Don't even consider denying me the chance to pay that back tomorrow._

Charles smiled brightly at him, feeling the warmth grow in his chest at the thought of how deeply Erik cared for him. _Rest assured, my love, I have every intention of collecting my money. I would not deny you anything._

Those words seemed to remind them both of what today would bring. Even in the best case scenario, this day would end in death. A death that would test the core of this new relationship. Charles truly meant it when he said he would deny Erik nothing, but saying it and actually acting on it were two different things. In the final moment, could he really let Erik kill a man? Would Erik still kill Shaw even knowing what it would do to Charles?

How far did love extend when faced with a vengeance that had been building for decades?

The apprehension in the air refused to dissipate, and the other mutants only added to it with their own worries. With effort, Charles systematically shut each of them out of his mind. The last thing he needed to deal with in a battle was a headache from too many emotions gripping at his head.

The only one he couldn't bring himself to break his connection with was Erik. Instead he let his mind latch onto Erik's as an anchor. He wrapped himself tightly in the love emanating from his lover's open mind and let the peace of that feeling carry him through until the moment his attention was needed elsewhere.

The crystal blue of the Atlantic Ocean stretched out below them, interrupted only by the two lines of battleships and the single cargo ship playing a deadly game of chicken. With sadness, but no real surprise, Charles noted that the cargo ship was still very much proceeding ever closer to the invisible line that would catapult the world into war.

Charles stretched his mind out far beneath the jet, lightly touching thousands of minds before zeroing in on one that served his purpose.

This mind was jumbled and hazy. Nearly blind with pain and fear. In the background, Charles could hear exactly what he hoped for, an order to turn the cargo ship around, but with a sinking feeling he knew it was an order that would be ignored. Dimly, through eyes clouded with agony, Charles could see a red man standing at the helm of the Aral Sea cargo vessel.

The terrified memories of the mind he was in showed clearly the slaughter that Shaw's teleporter had committed against the crew of the cargo ship. That same panicked mind also struggled with the certainty that he was about to follow his crew into death. As if on cue, Charles was thrust violently back into his own head as the dying man's pain slowly faded from his own body.

A shallow gasp of air was the only sign he allowed out that revealed the shock of death he had just felt. Erik gave him a sharp glance, not fooled for even an instant into believing that nothing had happened. "The crew of the Aral Sea are all dead, Shaw's been here" Charles informed his team, not bothering to respond to Erik's silent request for information. "He's set the ship on course for the Embargo Line."

In the smooth water of the Atlantic, the near-empty cargo ship plunged them ever closer to war.

Charles strained his powers, reaching into the mind of every captain on every American ship. He could hear the Soviet's explaining in desperate broken English that their ship had been called off. Wasn't responding. For the love of God don't attack us even though our ship still refuses to turn.

He could tell with dull horror that the decision had already come through to ignore the Russian claims. An assumption being made that it was all just a trick.

Surely though, Charles had not dragged his team down here only to fail. He had to find a way to avert this. He had to.

Moria's voice broke his concentration, "If that ship crosses the line, our boys are going to blow it up and the war begins."

"Unless," Charles responded with sudden inspiration, "It's _not_ our boys." Again he felt out with his power, this time finding a mind on the bridge of the lead Soviet vessel. He apologized profusely to the man – though the Russian wouldn't remember it later – for what he was about to do. Charles had no idea what the Soviets did to traitors and that was what this man was about to be branded.

Moving the body he was borrowing as fast as he could, Charles crossed the bridge and approached the weapon controls. With a single push of a button, a missile burst out of the Russian battleship. Charles fled back to his own head in time to feel the entire jet tilt sideways. Reacting instantly, he flung an arm out to protect Raven. He was relieved to note that the seatbelts held them all firmly and despite the impromptu barrel roll everyone was completely secure.

Below them, the Aral Sea ripped into pieces as the missile found its target.

"A little warning next time," Hank requested from the cockpit.

Charles gave a guilty grimace, "Sorry about that. Everyone alright?"

Affirmatives came from every direction as well as a slight groan from Sean that Charles took to mean speaking would only make the kid throw up. He turned his attention to the ocean, now that the cargo ship was out of the way, he could focus on finding Shaw. He got absolutely nothing. No clue at all where the mind he sought could be found.

"That was inspired, Charles," Moira complimented him.

It took a few seconds for Charles to process what she was talking about and then he remembered the missile. Of course. It hardly seemed important now that it was over. Regardless, he replied, "Thank you, Moira. But I still can't locate Shaw."

"He's down there, we need to find him now!" Erik's rough voice growled out from across the aisle. Charles wondered for the first time exactly how emotionally stable Erik was going to be on this mission.

He gazed at Erik, almost wanting to flinch away from the coldness he saw in the other man's eyes. Hank and Moira were still talking, trying to locate their target on radar, but Charles knew it was useless. The man had a submarine; he wouldn't be stupid enough to be somewhere radar could pick up. Hank seemed to come to the same conclusion as he morosely stated, "He must be underwater."

"And we don't have sonar," Charles pointed out, still watching Erik's face. It was painful to see the way it fell in on itself at the possibility that this entire mission would still result in losing Shaw.

Thankfully, for all involved, Sean appeared to have regained his ability to speak. "Yes, we do."

It clicked instantly for Charles and he repeated the words as he took his headset off. Of course they had sonar. They had spent hours fine tuning their sonar. Sean was completely capable of serving as sonar to find a submarine. He and Sean stood up simultaneously, starting the trek to the back of the jet as Beast worked to level the plane for them. Erik must have made the connection almost as fast as Charles because he was tearing off his own headset and pulling out of his seat to join them within seconds.

Charles and Sean stood at the front of the bomb bay doors, waiting anxiously for them to open. The telepath spared the time to shoot an amused glance at Erik after Sean forbade him from coming near.

_You did shove him off a satellite last time._

_I apologized._

_Don't lie to a telepath._

Erik raised his hands in a conceding gesture. Charles didn't know if he was conceding to him or just letting Sean know that he had no intention of shoving him through the bomb doors. He decided he would take it as a sign of both.

The doors opened, sending a gust of air into the jet that threatened to topple the three mutants standing near it. Charles reached to steady himself against the side and watched as Erik and Sean did the same. Once they were all stable again, Charles shouted what words of encouragement he could in Sean's ear. As an afterthought he touched his fingers to his head and added, "Remember, you'll be in here the entire time."

With a shout that could have been either terror or excitement, Sean hopped out of the jet and into the empty air. Charles tagged along inside the boy's head.

He marveled at the feeling of dropping through the air, feeling the wind against his face as the ocean crept ever closer. With a great bellow, Sean slowed their fall, gliding another few hundred feet horizontally before plummeting into the water. It was simple from there, just a matter of sending his sound waves out in all directions and waiting for one to bounce back.

Charles pulled back to his own head, "Banshee's got a location on Shaw." He had no idea when he had allowed the kid's silly nicknames to get into his head, but in this situation it sounded more appropriate.

Erik's entire body straightened up, tensing with emotions that Charles couldn't even begin to name. Their eyes met and Charles asked, "Are you ready for this?"

"Let's find out." Erik's eyes had a hardness to them that reminded Charles oddly of the metal that he was so fond of. The man in front of him, about to take on his greatest demon, was forged from steel and something told Charles that nothing could break him.

It no longer even surprised Charles that they didn't need to ever actually share their plan with each other. Erik headed off towards the access compartment for the wheels of the jet and Charles followed easily, knowing already exactly what Erik intended to do. It was easy reading Erik's intentions even without reading his mind.

Charles wasn't entirely sold on the idea of Erik hanging high in the air, held up by only his own grip on a grimy piece of landing gear, but he trusted Erik to know what he was doing. And he trusted himself to grab Erik and haul him back inside if need be.

Before Erik quite had time to signal Hank to lower the landing gear, Charles reached out and grabbed his arm lightly. Their eyes met and no words were exchanged but they both understood that it was a demand that Erik stay safe. Not push himself. Not let go.

Erik's gaze softened as he looked at Charles. He responded to the unspoken demand by lifting his hand to gently cup Charles' face. He drew their lips together in a chaste kiss, flooding Charles' head with thoughts of love and confidence. When he pulled away again and took the last few steps to the plane wheel, Charles felt certain that part of him was going with Erik. If something happened… he knew he would never get that part of himself back. The thought alone started up a hollow ache in his chest.

The metal bender acted unconcerned with the situation. He just flashed a cocky grin and a thumb's up signal to Hank and then wrapped an arm casually around the landing gear as it started to lower.

Charles knelt down beside the opening in the jet's floor, wind whipping his hair around and his eyes firmly fixed on Erik. He projected as best he could the location of the submarine and felt Erik's power surge up as he reached out to the hulking mass of metal under the water. A vicious glee bubbled up in Erik's mind when he connected with the sub.

For a few moments, he struggled with it and the effort started a dull anger in him. Charles could tell immediately that it was all wrong. The emotions Erik was feeling were far closer to rage than anything else. Falling back on old habits that were simply not enough to get this job done. The metal pulled against Erik, refusing to cater to his demands and Charles could see his lover's hand trembling with the strain of trying to do more than his power would allow.

_Remember, _he pressed urgently against Erik's mind, _the point between rage and serenity._

He accompanied the thought with every single memory that he thought might invoke that sense of peace inside Erik's mind. Satisfaction came immediately as he could sense the struggle against the submarine becoming easier for the metal bender.

Charles latched on to Erik's mind completely and felt the metal growing closer to the water's surface, obeying Erik's commands with ease now. Slowly, the entire thing dragged through the ocean, pulled closer every second. The pride he felt when the sub broke out of the water could have come from Erik, but it was just as likely his own.

It was truly amazing to watch, and even more amazing to feel it secondhand through Erik's mind. Propellers still twirled in a vain attempt to get away as the rear of Shaw's vessel came gracefully out of the ocean. Water cascaded off the metal surface and the entire thing rose higher – flying parallel to the jet as Hank slowly turned them towards shore. The submarine Erik had once almost died trying to stop now hung suspended in midair at the simple command of his power. It was, quite simply, beautiful to witness.

The confused minds of the occupants in the airborne submarine buzzed dully at Charles' power. One in particular stood out, the teleporter named Azazel. He recognized the mind from the brief moments he had spent aboard the now-sunken cargo ship. Inside Azazel's head, he discovered Shaw's back-up plan.

Of course, it was too much to ask for that Shaw and his team wouldn't at least attempt to fight back. When the hatch at the top of the sub opened and Janos stepped out, Charles knew that the real struggle was about to begin. Sure enough, the mutant on top of the flying submarine glared at them as he conjured a tornado and with a satisfied grin he flung it at the jet.

"Erik, take my hand!" he shouted to Erik.

_Not yet_, Erik projected back to him.

Charles recognized in the logical part of his head that Erik was probably right to hold out longer. If he dropped the sub now it would fall straight back to the water and they would lose it again. Just a little longer and it would instead fall to the sandy beaches of Cuba where they could properly deal with the people inside.

That logic did little to comfort the part of Charles that was watching a cyclone swirling ever closer to the man he loved. Particularly when Erik was focused on his power and probably not on keeping a strong grip on the precarious perch he had.

The moment felt oddly reminiscent of their first meeting. Erik pulling desperately at the submarine while Charles begged him to release it. Erik risking his life to hold onto Shaw.

The whirlwind hit with a fury, nearly tearing Charles out of the jet with the force of impact. He kept his grip with great effort and kept his eyes on Erik. The metal bender clutched tighter to the landing gear but still refused to let go of the submarine.

_Get back inside, Charles._

_Not without you._

It was a testament to Erik's willpower that, even with the imminent possibility of being torn away from the jet by the cyclone, he held on until the moment that the sub crashed down to the beach. He released the metal and Charles breathed a little easier once he saw both of Erik's arms holding on to the jet. It was clear that they were not out of danger though, the wind still buffeting the jet wildly. A crash was inevitable and being inside when it happened was certainly preferable.

"Take my hand!" Charles shouted again. He reached out towards Erik as far as he could go, struggling not to lose his own grip. Erik would never forgive him if he fell out of the plane while trying to get to him.

The metal bender stretched out towards Charles' hand, fingers not quite reaching. With a quick glance at the approaching beach – probably to weigh his options of survival – Erik pushed off from the wheel and leapt towards the offered hand.

The sudden pull on his body from the weight of a full grown man would usually have hurt, but the weight was a comfort. His fingers curling around Erik's arm was proof that he had made it. The fact that his arm was screaming at him in protest was of little consequence.

The entire jet shuddered as one of the engines tore off, sending the already spinning plane into a steeper downward spiral. Erik's body swayed dangerously out into the open air, no longer supported by anything except the grip Charles had on his arm. Charles had no intention of letting go even if it meant he got pulled out too. Instead, he felt Erik's other hand coming up to wrap around his arm as well and Charles put his entire body into pulling Erik up.

They weren't a moment too soon. The jet hit the ground seconds after Erik made it inside, sending Charles sprawling to the floor with a cry of surprise. His entire world started to tilt as the plane tipped and started to roll. Charles felt his body start to slide – and he would have given anything at that moment to be strapped firmly in a seat like the rest of the team.

Erik was on top of him in an instant. He pressed his body against Charles' and used his power to secure them both to the ground stopping them both from being flung by the tumbling of the jet. Charles clung to Erik's wrist, more as a comfort than anything else. Erik wouldn't let him get hurt. The knowledge that he was safe didn't help much against the nausea that rose in him as the plane rolled and bounced against the sand.

When it finally stopped, they were on the ceiling instead of the floor and Erik gently lowered them.

He would have liked a moment to just slow the frantic pounding of his heart, but Charles forced himself to stagger to his feet. He worked quickly to release the rest of the team from their seats, checking everyone for injuries as he went.

"I read the teleporter's mind," Charles said once everyone was standing firmly on the ground. "Shaw's drawing all the power out of his sub. He's turning himself into some kind of nuclear bomb."

The horrified looks around him probably mirrored his own when he had first seen the plan in Azazel's mind. They had no time for fear; they needed to take action immediately if there was any hope of still saving this day.

Charles started planning. "Moira, get on the radio and tell them to clear both fleets out immediately."

"I'm going in," Erik stated abruptly.

It wasn't a surprise to Charles, he had known of course that Erik would go to face Shaw, but it didn't stop the fear from lurching into his throat. Across from the ruins of the jet, they could see Shaw's crew standing ready for an attack and that was far too many people for Erik to just plow through. Charles looked at the rest of his team and ordered, "Beast, Havoc, back him up. Erik, I can guide you through once you're in, but I _need_ you to shut down whatever it is that's blocking me. Then we just hope to God it's not too late for me to stop him."

"Got it."

"Good luck," Charles shouted after him. He wanted to say a hundred other things, but this wasn't the time. He had to take charge and he had to command a battle. There was no time anymore for drawn out goodbyes so he just clung tightly to the hope, as he watched Erik leave, that he would see him again.

He was about to drift into Erik's mind, prepared to direct him to Shaw, but the movement of Raven behind him caught his attention. He called out to her to stop, knowing it wouldn't be what she wanted to hear.

"I'm going to help them," she insisted.

Knowing he had no time for an argument, Charles instructed her instead to guard the entrance to the jet. She was still clearly unhappy with the task but Charles paid her no more attention. He turned back to the window and pressed his hand to his head, letting Erik's mind pull him in with ease.

Alex was the first to attack Shaw's people, firing a bolt of energy at Janos and knocking him back against the submarine. Azazel appeared behind Charles' team, sweeping his blade at Hank's head and missing when Hank ducked. With a puff of red smoke, Alex, Hank and the teleporter were all gone. Charles didn't take the time to worry about them. They could take care of themselves.

Even if they couldn't, he was incapable of helping them from here anyway. He needed his attention on Erik. On Shaw. Because that was the most crucial battle that would be fought today.

Erik was tearing across the sand, rapidly closing the distance between him and the sub. With a burst of power, he tore a chunk of the wall away – letting it hit the recovering Janos. Erik leapt through the hole he had created and Charles started guiding him towards the empty hollow he felt inside the submarine.

_Erik, make for the middle of the vessel. That's the point my mind can't penetrate and we have to assume that's where Shaw is._

Charles was speaking out loud as well as into Erik's mind but he didn't particularly care. Attention to a small detail like accidentally speaking out loud was not high on his priority list.

Erik made his way through the sub, avoiding all the sparks and dangling wires that the crash had worked free. The metal bender proved once again the fact that they didn't need to speak their plans to each other because, without Charles telling him to, Erik diverted from finding Shaw long enough to explore the instrument panel. Charles waited until his eyes fell on what they needed and then he confirmed, _That's the nuclear reactor. Disable it._

As quickly as he could, Erik pulled the lever back down, taking power away from the reactor. Away from Shaw. Then he was progressing through the sub again while Charles stayed rooted in his mind, anxiously waiting.

_Erik, you're there. You've reached the void._

Charles could feel the frustration and confusion from Erik before the man even spoke. "He's not here, Charles. Shaw's not here! He's left the sub!"

The telepath paced within the broken jet as he pushed his mind into the sub again feeling for any sense of Shaw. He spread out to search the beach itself looking for any sign of their target but found nothing. That void was the only thing he couldn't touch.

_He's got to be there. He has to be. There's nowhere else he can be. Keep looking._

"And I'm telling you he's not. There's no one here God damn it!" Erik turned in circles, surveying the room which was, as Charles could see through Erik's eyes, definitely empty.

Charles could feel something tingling at the back of Erik's awareness. A sense of being watched. The metal bender turned slowly just as Shaw's voice called out his name. There was hardly time for Charles to shout Erik's name before the man was stepping into the same void that Shaw occupied.

With a rush of despair, Charles felt Erik's mind pull away from him and then cut off completely. "He's gone," he said aloud with frustration. "He's gone into the void. I can't communicate with him there!" He wanted to punch something. He wanted to dart across the sand himself to defend Erik from whatever Shaw tried to do. The panic gripping his heart was only outweighed by the need to remain calm so he could still help take down Shaw.

He had to stay in control. He had to trust in Erik's ability to break through whatever Shaw was using to block him.

The minutes dragged on, it felt like an hour since his mind had last touched Erik's. He wished he had given Erik one more declaration of love before they were cut off from each other. Just in case.

Erik's mind flooded back into his and Charles nearly dropped to the floor in relief. He shoved aside the worry he felt at how quickly Erik's thoughts had filled with pain and fear. It was only to be expected when confronting someone like Shaw. He still couldn't get to Shaw's mind and that was the only thing that he needed right now.

_Erik, whatever you're doing keep doing it. It's starting to work._

The sound of his voice in Erik's head again cleared some of the residual terror the metal bender had been feeling. He turned to Shaw with renewed determination and Charles was positive that they were going to win this fight.

His power was still heavily dampened by whatever Shaw was using to block telepathy, so the only thing he could do was speak to Erik and feel his mind. There was another brief burst of pain from Erik but with it came another crack in Shaw's void.

_It's working! I'm starting to see him but I can't yet touch his mind._

Charles could see through Erik's eyes again. In fact enough of the void had shattered that Charles could see everything except for Shaw's mind. Erik's glare gave Charles all the information he needed to know why. A helmet perched on Shaw's head. An ugly metal thing that covered all but a small portion of his face. That helmet was the only void left and it was the last barrier Erik needed to remove before Charles could get in.

Shaw's voice filtered to Charles through Erik's ears, "You've come a long way from bending gates. I'm so proud of you."

Charles wanted to be sick. He could feel the revulsion from Erik too as the metal bender stood up and latched on to metal pipes and support beams with his power He dragged them down, crashing them through the mirrors that surrounded the fight. Charles noted with very little interest that the mirror was probably similar to the helmet. Built to keep telepathy out.

There was an initial thrill of satisfaction as the metal rained down on Shaw, but the infuriating man just came closer to Erik. He seemed untouched by the chaos around him. Charles watched in horror as Shaw approached Erik, ignoring almost every piece of metal thrown at him. There was one though, a large steel beam, that he used for his own purposes. Even as Erik struggled to push it towards him, Shaw pushed back with greater force.

The telepath nearly cried out in horror when Erik lost his grip on the beam and Shaw shoved him against the wall, pinning him with the metal. Erik panted with effort and Charles could distinctly feel each ache that bloomed under his skin.

Fear and pain were making Erik's entire body tremble but rage still lingered beneath the surface and Charles grasped that knowledge with joy. It meant Erik hadn't given up yet. He was still fighting. If he could just get that God awful helmet off Shaw this would all be over.

Bile rose in Charles' throat when Shaw reached out to Erik, placing a hand around the back of his neck in a familiar gesture. Shaw's breath brushed across Erik's face as he leaned in and spoke, "We are the future of the human race. You and me, son. This world could be ours."

The word, 'son,' had been his worst mistake. The moment it was uttered Charles could feel the anger growing again in Erik.

"Everything you did, made me stronger," Erik conceded. There was a quality to his voice that made it clear he wasn't offering a compliment. The tone was chilling and violent even though it remained steady and calm. "It made me the weapon I am today. It's the truth. I've known it all along." The words made Charles want to reach out to Erik, send him comfort and affection, but this wasn't the time to distract Erik. Already he could feel the metal bender flexing his power out around him. "You are my creator," he continued.

A bundle of wires floated just behind Shaw's head, unnoticed by him. When the wire gripped the helmet, tearing it from its place, Charles was ready for it. He dove into Shaw's head, freezing him in place, unable to contain the brief shout of pain that came out as he did. This man's head was a nightmare.

"Are you okay?" The words came from behind Charles and it took him a moment to sort through his confusion and figure out what they were.

"Moira," he pleaded, "be quiet. I can only control this man for so long."

Shaw's head surged with power. It fought against him as he poured his strength into holding on. A headache pounded at his temple already and it had hardly been a second.

Erik paced around to the front of Shaw, looking into the man's eyes without mercy. Charles took a gasping breath, maintaining his grip on the violent mind of their enemy but pulling enough focus away to speak to Erik as well.

_You don't have to do this Erik. Be the better man._

It was useless and he knew it. This would come down to a choice between Erik and Shaw. If he kept Shaw frozen then Erik would kill him, but if he released Shaw Erik would die instead. This was what it had always come down to. Charles being the one to decide which death occurred on this day.

It was an easy choice of course.

Erik never gave him the chance to make that decision though. With a gentle pull, Erik called the helmet to his own hands. Charles' eyes widened in shock and an ugly sense of betrayal started churning in his chest. Surely Erik wouldn't cut him off like that.

"I'm sorry, Charles."

_Erik, please! Don't make the same mistakes that I did!_

"It's not that I don't trust you."

_Erik, it will not bring you peace!_

"If anything, I trust you too much. I trust that you won't force me to stop. But I also know that you would never forgive yourself for allowing me to do this. I don't want that blood on your hands so I'm taking away your choice in the matter."

The helmet sliding over Erik's head was like a punch to the gut. It sent Charles' mind reeling and his grasp on Shaw threatened to break. He pushed past the pain and anger, doubling his efforts on keeping Shaw stationary.

Mounting panic had Charles squeezing his eyes shut and pounding uselessly against the wall of the jet. "Don't do this, Erik!" he shouted in vain, knowing that Erik wasn't listening. He wondered if Erik would ever listen again.

He had claimed the helmet was for Charles' sake, so that Charles wouldn't feel the guilt of killing Shaw, but would he still claim that after this was over? Or would he decide the helmet was something to keep around?

Erik was speaking again and Charles could hear it through Shaw's ears. "I want you to know that I agree with you. We are the future. But, unfortunately, you killed my mother." Erik turned to face Shaw, holding a small coin up between his fingers. "This is what we're going to do. I'm going to count to three, and I'm going to move the coin."

Charles started making his way out of the plane; he kept up a steady stream of pleading words as he went. "No, Erik. Please no." They were murmured under his breath and had no chance of reaching Erik, but a part of him needed to say the phrases regardless.

"One."

Erik released the coin and it started drifting lazily towards Shaw.

"Please, Erik."

"Two."

As it drew closer, the realization fully hit Charles that he was inside the head of a man who was about to die in a very painful way. He sucked in a breath and slammed his eyes shut trying to brace himself for what was about to happen.

"Don't do this, Erik!"

"Three."

He felt the press of cool metal against his forehead for only a moment and then with ruthless force it pushed through. Skin split open and fine cracks spread across the front of his skull as the coin moved onward. It broke through bone, sending a few splinters of skull into his brain as it went. The coin itself was far worse than the pain of the bone. He could feel it travelling through at a leisurely and unceasing pace. It tore through nerve endings and ripped apart brain matter. The panicked mind reacted by firing off every nerve it could, pulsing pain through his entire body.

Charles was screaming. He wasn't even aware of it nor was he aware of the fact that he had fallen to his knees in the sand just outside the jet.

Relentlessly the coin kept pushing through his mind. Cutting through everything it came in contact with and sending fireworks of agony bursting along every string of nerves. Blackness filled his vision and his entire brain threatened to just shut down but Charles held on with everything he had. Shaw wasn't dead yet and until he was Charles was going to keep holding on.

When at last Charles felt the mind go dim, he relaxed his grip. His hand fell limply to the side and without another sound he collapsed fully onto the sand.

* * *

AN: Another cliffhanger! Oh no! Also, this chapter ended up being reallly long. Oops. Next chapter will probably be shorter and will also quite likely be the last.


	12. Endings and New Beginnings

AN: Normal sized chapter again. Enjoy!

* * *

"One," Erik released the coin, letting it hover in the air between them.

"Two," the coin started drifting towards Shaw in an almost casual way. Erik's breathing grew harsher in anticipation of finally fulfilling this dream.

"Three," slowly, deliberately, he pushed the coin forward until it broke through Shaw's forehead. He savored the feel of metal sliding through tissue and bone, leaving disaster in its wake.

Erik could hear a scream, guttural and agonized. It seemed fitting background music to this moment that he had waited so long for. It didn't even occur to him to wonder who was screaming. His attention was on one thing and one thing only; he wanted to soak up every single second of Shaw's death. He wanted to revel in the knowledge that the monster that had haunted his nightmares was finally gone.

With a final push of power, the coin broke through the back of Shaw's skull and fell to the ground behind him. A few seconds later, the body toppled after it, slumping to the ground heavily.

It was over. After so many years of hunting this man down, it was all over.

Why did he feel so empty?

Erik blinked a few times, snapping himself slowly out of the single-minded focus that had taken over. Everything was silent and the calm of it surrounded him with some small amount of peace. Until he realized consciously why his ears were still ringing slightly.

A hollow scream that had most definitely not come from Shaw. One that had started just as the coin entered Shaw's head and had stopped just as suddenly the moment Shaw fell. Or more accurately, the moment Charles had, theoretically, released Shaw.

His mind darted back to that moment on the plane when Charles had confirmed the death of the Aral Sea crew. That brief flash of unexplained pain across the telepath's face as he pulled back into his own body.

"Charles," the name came out nearly as a whisper and Erik stared at the dead body in front of him with horror. Leaving Shaw behind without a second thought, Erik turned and ran through the empty submarine with Charles' name tearing from his lips again and fear growing in his chest.

The helmet remained forgotten on his head.

His heart clenched with dread when he burst out of the sub and into the bright sun. He could see someone collapsed just outside the jet. Someone who was wearing the same hideous blue and yellow jump suit as the rest of the team. He tried to convince himself the fallen person was someone other than Charles, but he could clearly see every one of the others gathered around the body.

Erik covered the distance in seconds, pushing Alex out of the way so he could get to Charles.

The telepath was pale and shaking on the ground, breath coming out in short gasps of air. His eyes were unfocused, blurred with pain. He was blinking blearily around as if he had only just woken up. It didn't last long, the trembling faded as Charles mind slowly caught on to the fact that the pain was gone. Erik suspected Charles' head was gradually reaching the conclusion that it had not _actually_ had a coin shoved into it.

"Erik," Charles said softly as his eyes finally focused. The telepath's eyes darted briefly to the helmet on his head and a flash of hurt showed through, but he didn't comment on it. Then, his gaze drifted back to Erik's worried stare and in typical Charles fashion, his lips turned up in a smile. A weak and tired one, but no less bright than usual.

Erik hadn't missed the look Charles had given the helmet, but he didn't bother taking it off. He was too busy making certain that the telepath wasn't dying. He waited until the Charles' breathing evened out before questioning, "What happened?" He already knew of course, but he still desperately wished that Charles would prove his suspicions wrong.

Charles let out a humorless laugh, "If I had let go of his mind, he would have killed you."

The reality finally sunk in completely as Erik's fear was confirmed. "You were still in his head." Erik stated with horror and bile rose in his throat at the implication of what he had just done to Charles. "You were still in his head and you felt everything." Guilt blossomed inside him, churning his mind into a turbulent chaos.

He recalled the sadistic pleasure he had felt driving that innocuous piece of metal through bone and brain. He thought of the joy he had felt in knowing that Shaw's last moments were agony for him.

It hadn't been just him that the agony affected though.

It wasn't worth it. Killing Shaw had once been the most important thing in his life but somewhere long the line that had changed.

Now the most important thing was Charles, and the kids they had surrounded themselves with. Killing Shaw was far from worth the pain he had just caused Charles.

He remembered the way he had planned Shaw's death for years. Searching for some way to do it that would cause the right amount of pain. Enough pain to satisfy years of torture.

It seemed far worse now when he knew that his actions had caused Charles that same pain.

"Let me tell you," Charles quipped in an attempt at cheerfulness, "Feeling metal cut through your brain is not all it's cracked up to be." The attempt at humor was rendered completely ineffective by the hiss of pain that he let out as he struggled to his feet.

"I'm sorry, Charles. If I had known-"

"But you didn't. It happened and neither of us can change that. You are not at fault for this, Erik." Trust Charles to know immediately that guilt was clawing at Erik's mind. The telepath swayed a little unsteadily and Erik reached out at once to stabilize him. Wanting to chastise him for standing so soon to begin with.

He should really stay down. At least until he had stopped looking like someone who had just felt what it was like to die.

_I'm fine, Erik. We have more pressing concerns right now._

Charles' eyes flickered momentarily to the fleet still hovering offshore. Erik picked up on what Charles was trying to tell him with relative ease. As soon as he allowed his attention to shift away from the telepath it was impossible to ignore the feeling of metal spinning towards them. The battleships were slowly repositioning their gun turrets, aiming at the beach with deadly intent instead of at each other.

The telepath had to have picked it up from a scan of the captain's minds. Which meant that the order had probably already been given. If the guns were just being moved as a precautionary measure Charles wouldn't look nearly so worried.

The disbelieving retort Erik had been planning on sending Charles' way at the insistence that he was, "fine," died in his throat as an entire new fear gripped him. After all these years, he had finally killed Shaw, only to die a few minutes later right after finding out that he had just indirectly tortured the man he loved. Worse yet he had brought his entire family along on the mission and they all stood beside him now poised to die as well.

This day, which was supposed to be his salvation, was rapidly becoming a nightmare far worse than anything Shaw had ever done to him.

With little more than a muffled boom, the missiles fired.

Hundreds of metal projectiles sped towards them, fire spitting out behind them, and Erik grasped at every last speck of power he had. He could feel each individual missile bearing down on them and with a single outstretched hand he stopped them all. He nearly laughed at how easy it was as he watched the missiles hovering over the beach.

Everyone behind him stood staring in horror at the death that had almost occurred and no one spoke or even moved. Everything was still.

Except for the churning of Erik's mind. He clung on to the missiles and as he let his power dance across their metal surface he felt his anger growing. This was exactly what he had warned Charles about. This was the inevitable outcome of revealing themselves to humanity. Homo-sapiens would fight mutants fiercely because they would fear their own extinction.

Humans had just tried to kill every single person he cared about in one single move.

Erik let the rage boil inside him and with a gesture the missiles pivoted slowly in the air to face the fleet that had just attacked. Those ships sitting there which would have succeeded in killing them all if Charles hadn't pointed out what they were doing in time. Erik knew full well that he had been too focused on Charles to notice the missiles and they would all have died.

Now though, he had the chance to kill those who attacked him.

"Erik! Wait, please!" Charles voice called out to him and Erik couldn't help but turn to the telepath. His lover's bright blue eyes bored into his soul, already wordlessly begging him to be a better man than he was. Erik recalled a conversation not that long ago when Charles had told him _The choice to be a better man has always been yours to make and I hold no illusions that I can make that decision for you. I simply have faith that one day you will save yourself._

The metal bender pushed away the memory and latched on instead to a justification for what he wanted to do, "I told you before Charles that I would attack those who attacked me. I am defending us, not killing innocents."

"You're wrong, Erik," was the quiet reply. Charles hesitated a moment before continuing, as if waiting for Erik to argue. When no argument came he gestured to his temple – their now familiar symbol for telepathy – and asked, "May I show you something?"

Erik wondered for a moment why Charles didn't just go into his head without permission, showing whatever he wanted. Then he recalled the weight of the metal perched on his head and what exactly it did. A dozen different thoughts crossed his mind in the span of a few seconds. What if Charles took over his body and forced him to release the missiles? What if Charles used his power to change Erik's mind entirely?

On the edge of those thoughts was the question, why am I doubting Charles at a time like this?

As if he could read Erik's mind, Charles spoke up again, "You have to trust me, my friend. I would never betray your trust by doing something to your mind that you don't want."

Mutely, Erik nodded his assent but he made no move to actually remove the helmet. Charles, seemingly sensing the reluctance he still had, moved closer to him cautiously. He raised his hands slowly to grasp at the helmet and lifted it free of Erik's head, dropping it unceremoniously – and with a poorly hidden look of disgust – to the ground beside their feet.

Erik was instantly comforted by the love and affection still pouring off Charles. He hadn't even realized that he missed those steady emotions. He certainly hadn't realized – or at least hadn't admitted to himself – that he had been afraid his mistake with Shaw had cost him Charles' love. If the feelings the telepath sent his way were any indication, he still hadn't managed to push Charles away completely.

For a moment, Charles' hand lingered on Erik's cheek, brushing a thumb lightly against the skin. Then with a deep breath – and one last murmured plea for trust – he pressed two fingers to Erik's temple.

Without warning, Erik found himself standing on the deck of one of the battleships. Or, more accurately he supposed, he seemed to be seeing through the eyes of someone standing on one of the ships. The man had a mop in his hands and he whistled merrily as he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot.

_His name is James._ Charles' voice filtered through to Erik. _He has a girlfriend waiting for him back in Virginia. Two days ago when they were at port, he bought a ring. All he has done this entire day is clean._

Erik's view shifted again and he looked around a crowded mess hall from behind a counter.

_This man is named Tyler. He only joined the Navy so he could get a college education but he found a passion here for cooking and now he loves his job as the chef. _

Another shift and this time Erik was in the bunk room.

_Kyle has been resting down here for the last two hours because he just finished his rotation. He hates his job but stays because his paycheck is the only thing paying his mother's bills. Without it she would end up out on the street._

_Peter, who is about to enter the room has been in the engine room half of the day repairing a few minor things. His son waits for him at home and talks frequently about growing up to be just like his dad._

"Why are you showing me this, Charles?" Erik whispered, knowing that somewhere back with their physical bodies Charles was close enough to hear him.

_Because I want you to see that there are thousands of innocent men on these ships._ Charles answered without hesitation. While he spoke he flashed a continuous stream of minds through Erik's head. _These are all men who have no idea what their captain just did. Would you condemn them all to die for the crimes of the ones who pushed the button?_

_True, there is at least one man on each and every one of those ships who was ready and willing to kill us all, but there are hundreds more who played no part at all in this. They don't deserve to be murdered for someone else's wrongs._

_When you start killing all humans for the sins of a few, _Charles' voice grew softer in his head, _that's how genocide begins._

This conversation seemed familiar, and he supposed it was because he had it at least a dozen times before with Charles. As the anger inside him slowly calmed down, he recalled that each time Charles had convinced him that killing those who had done nothing wrong would only make things worse.

It was even harder to ignore the wisdom of the words now as Charles pressed one person after another into his mind. Seeking out those who had no say at all in what the missiles did or who they shot at. Erik had long lost count of the number of men Charles had shown him. None of whom had done a single thing worthy of the death Erik had been about to inflict on them.

Charles seemed to realize his work was done and he gently pulled out of Erik's head. A tentative smile played across the telepath's lips, as if he wasn't quite sure if Erik would be upset with him for entering his mind in quite that manner. Erik offered him a smile in return.

His hand wavered in the air, the missiles shaking slightly in response but not moving closer to the fleet. He wasn't ready to let them go, but he wasn't going to fire them at the ships either. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with them at this point.

Something must have seemed threatening in his gesture, because in the next moment a loud gunshot rang across the beach.

Everything happened far too quickly, the sound had hardly reached his ears when he felt something impact against him, throwing him towards the sand. The surprise of the moment made his focus waver and the missiles dropped from his grasp, exploding in the air above the Atlantic. The second gunshot sounded before he even had time to realize that the thing that had hit him was warm, solid, and dressed in a hideous jumpsuit.

He landed roughly on the sand, watching in horror as Charles' body arched in pain when the first bullet drove into his spine. No scream came out of his lips but the soundless way his mouth gaped open in agony was just as bad. The second bullet was still speeding through the air and Erik could clearly see that it was poised to strike Charles' temple.

This scenario seemed horribly recognizable to him. It had been less than a week since the day Charles put a gun to his own head and asked Erik to stop the bullet. He wished irrationally that he could go back in time and shoot Charles just so he could have had the practice before it came to a situation like this. The same fear and panic which had overwhelmed him the last time a bullet threatened Charles' life welled up in him now as he acknowledged that this time it was real.

There was no cheating by melting the bullets before they left the chamber. There was no use trying to tear the gun away from Moira because the bullet was already flying. Nothing he could do at this point would undo the damage already done.

If he didn't stop this bullet it would collide with Charles' head and drive straight through it just like the coin.

Erik didn't give himself room to doubt. He grasped at the bullet, feeling it burn its way through the air on its deadly trajectory. He filled himself with rage and serenity, quieting the fear and panic, and then he shoved with all his might. Time seemed to slow down as the bullet shifted by tiny fractions and Erik pushed away the worry that it wouldn't be enough.

It had to be enough. There was no other option.

He would have felt a flare of pride when the bullet soared off into the trunk of a palm tree, but stopping one bullet didn't change the fact that the other had already embedded itself into Charles' spine.

The dull thud of Charles' body finishing its slow collapse to the ground met Erik's ears.

He heard the harsh inhale of breath next and everything came back into focus and sped back up to real time. Erik dove over to Charles, feeling for the bullet and finding it lodged firmly between the vertebrae of his lover's spine. He didn't dare take it out. The bullet was holding in some of the blood flow and removing it would only increase the speed with which the red stain was growing in the sand.

Charles, ever the infuriating; selfless; optimist that he was, cracked a weak smile and whispered, "I told you that you could deflect a bullet."

Erik ignored the comment and pressed a hand against Charles' back, putting pressure on the wound, feeling helpless when Charles let out an agonized cry that he could do nothing to ease.

"What the hell were you _thinking,_ Charles?" he hissed out. "You could have died."

"Yes," came the weak answer, "but you would have lived."

The metal bender didn't dignify that with a response, knowing it was futile to argue and unwilling to let Charles waste energy trying to win a fight. Instead he said, "We need to get you to a hospital," and he moved to lift Charles off the beach.

He was surprised when the telepath laid a hand on his arm, a clear sign that he wanted Erik to wait.

Charles breath was coming in labored pants, a groan of pain permeating every few inhales, but his bright blue eyes were as alert as ever when he looked across the beach. With a feeble motion, he beckoned to the remnants of Shaw's team where they stood watching the entire drama unfold.

Erik hadn't even noticed they were still around.

When the cautiously approaching mutants were within hearing range, Charles held his hand out to them and softly said, "I would like you to come with us. You would be welcome in my home. We can make a difference without having to take innocent lives."

Erik swore under his breath. Here Charles was bleeding out on a beach with a bullet in his back and he took the time to offer an olive branch to the mutants who had fought against them.

Stupid, selfless, idiot with zero sense of self-preservation.

The metal bender had to admit that it paid off well though when Azazel was the first to step forward and accept the offer. "I can get you to the hospital faster than Erik could," he suggested with a hand held out.

"Thank you," Charles murmured.

Erik was startled by how much weaker and more strained those words sound than the ones from just moments before. He looked back down at Charles and noted the rapidly paling skin and the stuttering way his chest moved as he took each panting breath. His eyes were shut and his teeth were clenched against the pain.

The feel of a hand on his shoulder startled Erik slightly, but not enough to tear his gaze away from Charles who was rapidly fading in his arms. With a sulfurous smell and an abundance of red smoke, Erik found himself cradling Charles' body in a parking lot instead of in the sand.

Azazel muttered something about needing to leave before the hospital staff saw him and with another puff of smoke he left. Erik paid his exit no mind, he was already screaming for help and struggling to his feet with Charles held tightly against his chest. The telepath's skull rested against his shoulder, his forehead pressed against Erik's neck

He tried in vain to ignore how cold Charles' skin felt against his.

He stumbled through the automatic doors, glad to see that someone had heard his shouts and was already on their way with a gurney rolling swiftly along beside them.

Erik hardly had time to process what was happening before Charles was being swiftly removed from his arms and rushed back down the long hallway and out of sight.

_I love you!_ Erik shouted desperately in his mind. No answering mental voice came. With a sinking feeling he realized that even though Charles had said those words to him, Erik had yet to voice them either mentally or verbally. He wondered now if he would ever get the chance.

* * *

The next fourteen hours were hell as Charles underwent surgery. Throughout the day, Azazel brought each and every member of the team to the hospital, always careful to remain out of sight himself. The crowd in the waiting room just seemed to continue growing and the quiet sounds of crying and comforting words grated on Erik's nerves.

He recognized that it helped the others, but he just wanted them to all shut up.

Rather than snap at them in his anger, he stood abruptly and wandered off to a vending machine around the corner. He walked beyond it for a short distance and then his legs gave out beneath him and he sunk to the ground numb with terror.

It had been so long since the doctor's got ahold of Charles. Shouldn't they have news by now?

There had been so much blood.

Charles had looked so weak in the end, almost completely non-responsive.

The feeling of Charles' body limp in his arms was not something he would ever forget.

Erik hadn't been cut off from Charles' mind for this long since the moment they met and the lack of contact was like a gaping wound in his own head where Charles' presence should have been. He had no idea how he had managed to wear the helmet so long now that he was conscious of the emptiness that existed without Charles in his skull.

By the time Raven found him later, he was leaned up against the wall with his head in his hands. At first he wanted to snap at her for bothering him, but the tears in her eyes stopped him. Instead he did what Charles would have done. He motioned her closer, letting her curl up against him on the floor as he wrapped an arm around her and pressed a light kiss against the top of her head.

Somehow, being thrust into the position of comforting someone else made it easier to deal with his own fear. Maybe that was why Charles always insisted on caring for other people instead of himself.

When the doctor finally arrived, they braced for whatever news was to come. The man's face looked tired and a little sad which sent fresh panic into them all.

"He'll live," were the first words out of the surgeon. The gathered group gave a collective sigh but more news came, "Unfortunately, the bullet severed the nerves in his spine. We don't believe he will ever walk again."

Raven turned into Erik's shoulder to muffle the sob that came out and Erik just stared stonily into space as he rubbed soothing circles against her back. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Today should have been the victorious defeat of Shaw and the happy continuation of his life with Charles.

Instead, his hesitance to release his hatred had cost his lover the use of his legs.

* * *

When Charles finally woke, the first thing he did was ask for Erik so the metal bender found himself being led down the hallway and into the hospital room.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Charles propped up in the bed. His skin had yet to return to its proper color and the paleness was only accentuated by the stark white sheets. His smile was laced with pain and his eyes were tinged with red. He had been crying.

"So they told you," Erik guessed sadly.

Charles nodded mutely. He tried to lift a hand to reach out for Erik but his body was still far too weak. The metal bender crossed the distance between them in a few quick strides and firmly grasped Charles' hand in his own. He pressed a tender kiss against the palm and then let his forehead fall on top of their clasped hands.

The telepath gently squeezed Erik's hand as he leaned back more against the pillows behind him. He let out an audible sigh and whispered, "It could have been worse. We should be glad that it wasn't."

If there was anything Erik was glad of, it was that Charles' voice had some of its old strength back. "It shouldn't have happened at all!" He vehemently insisted as he lifted his head to glare at Charles. "That bullet was meant for me, not you!"

"Which, my love, is why I am so very glad that it missed its intended target."

Erik fought down his anger enough to ensure that he wouldn't accidentally warp any metal medical equipment and then he growled out, "_Never_ do that to me again. I've already lost far too many of the people I love and you are _not_ going to be added to that list."

"Of course not," Charles replied with humor starting to dance in his eyes. "But you should have known I wouldn't die. I still have twenty dollars to collect."

The metal bender allowed himself to let out a shaky laugh.

"Erik," Charles voice spoke out into the silence that had gathered between them. "You were going to release the missiles, right?"

His voice shook with uncertainty and his eyes dropped to their still-entwined hands.

Erik used his free hand to gently turn Charles' face back towards him. "Yes," he breathed out. After a moment's thought he spoke again, "I can't lose you, Charles. I know that more than ever now. But, I also know that we have two very different views of the world and we have been struggling since the day we met to force each other to change. We don't want the same things and I realize that."

Tears started to pool in Charles' eyes and Erik hurried to continue before the telepath tried jumping to any incorrect conclusions.

"Which is _why_ I want you to teach me. I know that you won't ever turn completely against humanity, and I will never completely accept them, but we can meet in the middle. You always seem to find the good in anyone and in any situation. Show me how to see the world the way you see it. You were right, this may end up a war, but I of all people should know better than to commit genocide." He took a deep breath before continuing, "You told me once, that the only one who could save me is myself, but I can't do it without your help. If you will fight by my side against those who want to hurt us, I will stand by you to protect those who have done no harm."

The tears were falling freely down Charles' cheeks now and Erik brushed a few away with his thumb. "Erik, my love, I would be honored to fight beside you and protect our people from whatever threats may come."

* * *

Hank had worked hard in the time Charles had spent in the hospital. By the time that the team returned to the mansion it was fully accessible to Charles in his new chair.

Erik smiled up at the building with warmth in his heart as he allowed himself to think of this place as his home for the first time. He thought of the school it would become and the children they would help here. He glanced back down briefly to the telepath at his side and tried to figure out what on earth he had done to deserve this life.

_You deserve far more than you like to think._

Erik smiled, not acknowledging the telepathic thought. Instead he just rubbed the back of Charles' hand with his thumb as he realized that Charles had been right all along. They could build something here, be a part of something. For once in his life, Eric could do more than just tear things down.

* * *

AN: And thus ends my first X-Men fic. Hope you all liked it. I will be starting work on a sequel soon that will incorporate parts of DOFP into it so keep an eye out for that if you liked this one. UPDATE: The sequel is started and the first chapter has posted. Check out "Undoing the Damage."


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